At the watermark
the line is drawn,
there, the sharp cool clearness
of a torquoise mirror marines me,
while I bend to pick up
Chinamen's fingernails
with the blinding Sun on my back,
I consider my life,
it has gone up in flames
licking my capricious mind
with contemptuous poetry, and
now this is what I live and breathe,
it has come...
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