breaks the ayre waves,
tidal-powered pools
dried, applied on graveyard days.
make me painted brave,
a white ghost haunting,
hunting for a resting place
gilded and gliding,
rankless and writhing
chained up to the tides of better ways.

coming, going, lapsing and lapping
pleased as a summers day
to soak up, dabbing away
the vibrant laughlines of the world.

Draining, drawing, determin...

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