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6.276
3.x.25
here in the lower reaches
Gore Cove Track Series
past the
equinox
whip birds
in the dry call dusk
we gather
like leaves along to
be in and
with and by the creek
track of
sand – time
its all four
paws
calligraphy
unseen
here’s
everything the wind bent
old
intentions grown over
stone stood
through a
door of seasons
last slant
golden to the throne
steps down
into the dry bed
to get below
breezes
breath of
the harbor
city pulsing
come to
another world
just where
the tide comes in
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