Saturday, January 01, 2005
The Beach
A vagueness comes over everything,
as though proving color and contour
alike dispensable: the lighthouse
extinct, the islands' spruce-tips
drunk up like milk in the
universal emulsion; houses
reverting into the lost
and forgotten; granite
subsumed, a rumor
in a mumble of ocean.
from 'Fog' by Amy Clampitt
// posted by George Manka @ 11:51 AM 
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