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Sep 8
this bay-skied easel works

pastels off the frame, to a

baby's palette off the face

of the earth.

as a cooling breeze birds--

with the moving images

of birds not necessarily

in flight.

or in view just now.

the seagrass loosens the

tide as antennas in reception,

picking up on the shadowed

cavities of distant trees

whitening birds

trying to come in.

the smell of sea salt heavy

as a sacrificial animal, trailed

by imploding senses.
Written by
Onoma  (N)ow(Y)ou(C)an
       shamamama, Gabriel burnS and BR Dragos
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