Tuesday, August 2, 2022


        It smells
        evening's oils
        the dots and dashes
        of a soft
        blue horse



         

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  at the very least there were about fourteen of them crickets

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               Let the shapes               escape the oars                bent the eel-                   grass an                      arm...
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              a leopardess every growl and coarse lick of it  
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                dark night yes          lamps of the          purse seiners