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Poetry By: teargen

There are many islands in my ocean, listing and drifting near the edge of oblivion.

Submitted:Apr 23, 2010    Reads: 49    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

Islands of white paper

implore my words

to come ashore.

Cays and keys,

thinly populated,

reefs and shoals

for settlement of phrases.

One nears an edge;

it has drifted away.

It began

with the promise

of lucid morning,

now fallen.

Further it drifts

in resistive lull,

shorelines scarred

and settlement still.

I have seen

islands fall

one by one.


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