a short note on the sparseness of language (after Diane di Prima)
the sea is a thousand shiny
lights moving as one forming a
silvery island in the distance it
washes the wan winter from my
skin and leaves the
salty color of summer I
consider the horizon, the myriad blues and
greens and how many cliches it
will take before I am finally clean
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
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