Month: March 2015

This Man Is An Island

black oil tides grasp the shores once wrapped in nets and capelin corpse a seagulls pitch gaining merit steadfast the bailer in his boat for one a lonely king with borrowed blankets and unfolded towels stained by the sun unbroken by design M.

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small harbour

color me atavistic i can fit here beside these bottles – these knives open up your lonely eyes we will not be pardoned by sunlight instead the valley of sea salted bones of those before who knew the way of kindness of necessity you drew them out and bled them dry now white washed houses…

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