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And When I Waked I Cried to Dream Again 1 Smashed glass white splintering greater waters from the lesser trace in the air gust someone leaving a door open hole in the world anyone falls into 2 Small again, kosmos again — my tender terror in thickening distance, playing in the scribble-scrabble — instructing the ocean where to flow in its cold war of water versus water. Choosing or chosen for this moment — the call to paralysis — a taste, molecule by molecule shaping in the corners of his round mouth — the sea becoming the sea — 57 3 The land, dead in its pores all the war long — glossed by fog. 4 Waves get down on their knees, gulls strafe a boat in the channel — a fisherman trawling habitually for dying breeds sweeps vacant shells away; it looks easy — other lives usually do. The boy returns debris to the four-year-old sea — crab shells, egg sacs, Styrofoam — pieces of — on the way out, the way in. Whirls of thinking as he navigates the jetty. 5 Worlds to go, sleepy sea-stained worlds. 58 ...

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