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Here's the discovery: that the
stone skippers Utopia is
down
at the shores seen from
smeared windows
toothchewed shutters set in
stucco.
Green seaglass retrieved
from scaled fingers, and the jiggling
grey hips of the Irish Sea,
where there
is glassy salt sweeping up
with
delicate vibrato persistance.
When it had already
covered all shores
it still turns with
new sand,
layers of slate,
infinite stretch of perfect
skipping stones,
curlicued drifts of seaweed now
plastered green to the rocks,
a crab, a fish, a
gull.
At the horizon
theres an indistinction
and no difference
now
between the sea and
sky.
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