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Two Poems

The Bay

Green sea
fermenting into waves
laced with white foam.
Along the empty quay
abandoned houses.

Three divers
near the boathouse
strange amphibious creatures
with black rubber skins
wrestling the waves
climbing the rocks
in the apocalyptic sunset
that left
gold orange strands
on the dark waters.


The past
a drink, a coolness
we thirst for.

The past
a drink, a poison
we thirst for.

Watching our selves
these unknowns
more adventurous
more luminous
new, glossy beings
unaware of the dangers
in their innocence.

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