Peripherally the ocean
marks itself
against the gauging land
it erodes and
builds:
it is hard to name
the changeless:
speech without words,
silence renders it:
and mid-ocean,
sky sealed unbroken to sea,
there is no way to know
the ocean’s speech,
intervolved and markless,
breaking against
no boulder-held fingerland:
broken, surf things are expressions:
the sea speaks far from its core,
far from its center relinquishes the
long-held roar:
of any mid-sea
speech, the yielding resistances
of wind and water, spray,
swells, whitecaps, moans,
it is a dream the sea makes,
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