Of kaleidoscope shells
Probing fractured Venus with a stick
Under a tent of taunting gulls.
That chucks in backtrack of the wave;
Though the mind like an oyster labors on and on,
A grain of sand is all we have.”
This makes a lonely
with your white crest
And then pulled back
to the monasteries of the sea
Jenne' R. Andrews
February 5, 2011
Copyright Jenne' Andrews 2011
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