Sea lilies I see as silly sprawled and feathery arms lift: either a birthday child's happy waves or the crone's hunger-mad flailing. Ethereal, they sift nervous ticks drifting down with the dwindled since carboniferous seas rose from an obsession's bad-mouthed drought to my sorrow's sadly doubted drowning. The miracle of this one thought circles up to me at a glacial pace.
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