--
seek the depth of our landmass
across the wrong ocean
a turn inside out
as the wind blows its bluish skin to whitecaps
the circling blur above swoops down
to skim the crossing-- flight of ideas
home to roost, no dry land
(wrong side of the current, every twisted
mother tongue torn to shreds
by vagaries of history: yet another foul wind)
--
Wine of the Day, No. 845
Fa 17 hores
