A bird that dips and wavers
Over lone waters round,
Then with a cry that quavers
Is gone—a spectral sound.
— Cale Young Rice
Sopping wet, the organ floats,
flounders in one of several boats,
severed from the blue-green sea,
nevermore to scurry into the lee.
Hearty laughs, ebb and flow, on wind
oblivious to a malevolent whirlwind.
Cupid’s arrow, a bullseye contortion,
took from mate, a...
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