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  • Above the ups of sea
    And distant from urbanity,
    Under the crackling blue seagull sky,
    Not encapsuled
    In sorrow's sonogram,

    I am delivered
    To the other side,
    To happiness,

    Watching a suntree
    Stretch across the sea,
    White-gold splitting blue.
    Out here,

    Sorrow is an ultrasound,
    Still here,
    Still here but like an insomniac,
    Still moon-cold present but shy as silence,
    Inaudible to my heart's stethoscope.

    2.
    A rising wind
    Arabesques the sea
    and the sky, the sky invisibly.

    That the structure of the sea
    Earlier, with swells like printed lines
    On a sheet of A4 paper

    Is gone,
    That the sea now, mad,
    Scorn-scribbles
    White threats across highs crests,

    That there is no sun, but gray-scaled clouds—
    Near the horizon, the silhouette of me
    Loosing an oar, clutching the pram's side.

    Only seaward
    Is my umbilical cord to sorrow cut,
    Through storms, through storms, and this,
    I will remain here.

    Waves anadiplosis,
    Above the ups of sea,
    Scorn-scribbled
    With foam across their crests;
    I will remain here, on
    The other side of sorrow.
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