ocean, mass., and frigid

waves crashing over granules
of sand, ending in white foam, like
toothpaste at night before bed
cold and tingling, but flying faster
than the fish below, no
shoes, no anchor
without a sense of perspective
it's hard to tell where you are
and what you are.
- bluedisch.'s blog
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Nice. :) Reminds me of
Nice. :)
Reminds me of Usagi's recent stuff.
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"It's either broken or it's French."
oh, thank you. that's a very
oh, thank you. that's a very high compliment. =]