By | 1 November 2019

yet with cameras and caps, how
diluted this tanker’s oil streaming
through wharves, cashed
town searching for extremities,
habitat of buses; here we are,
we are on time. i too have followed
the landed coast, prodigal breath
thrusting salt over headlands,
worrying wings of hair;
i threw the beach
in your face and brightened
birds you flew.
latitudes, can
we align? Good Hope, del
Fuego, clasp hands: pole-
stretched arrows, meeting
the reclusive ice half way.

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