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April 16, 2012

The aftermath of idiocy itches like sleepy-dust
with a risk of red-eye

and the best of intentions roll up like smoke-screens
to cover your tracks

You can get some work done in this acrid air
but it won’t feel good

and your simplest efforts to not mess up
mask a tell-tale smear of smut

The edge of the sea is made of water
stretched in tension

or crushed under its own variable mass
by heavier earth

It might well be continuous even so
the edge is blurred

or do all the things that sink remain themselves
distinct and self-submerged?


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