Down where seas plop
Like heavy balloons,
Sides all sewn up
By weed, green weed,
Parked on pillows
Of shore as the tide
Slovenly sprawls
In lace, cold lace,
Long-legged birds
With beak-crowded smiles
Solemnly pick
At shells, live shells.
All afternoon
The winds play charades
Figuring dunes
Like snow, dumb snow.
All afternoon
The sun squats on clouds
Ringing a gong
Of gold, dead gold.
Under a cove
And gray as a lung
A marble face rolls
That dreams no dreams.
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