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

What a beautiful blog. Intimate and sensual as sand between your toes! I'll be back often.
Thanks Russell.
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