Porite,
Sweeter returns aside, in the sea-waved
sigh rends only resurgence
and the marine wind's violence
remembered as we, meaning of course
my sweetheart and I, found for each other
the sea-smoothened pieces of sea glass
and the slowly in sand embossed
sea shells, each thread a ribbed along the back
definition to ocean faraway lonesomeness--
which is to say that the shells
and the glass transmit to hand
the scribbled and schismatic of white sound
which, although we couldn't exactly tell
what we felt at every part,
the sun layered in topaz
of sky and ocean seemed easy and worn
as we found with each other, without
much talk, the sea-smoothened.
-Sanguineous
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
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