Jan. 14th, 2006

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[This may change entirely. I'm more enamoured of the title concept than any of the words I've written. There is a lot of poetry rattling around in me right now, I'm saving some of it for completion. I almost feel prolific in some fashion for the first time in (jesus, kill me) years.]

They part my sea on ships of lead and gold
Leave me to cold caves and barren reaches
I would rather die upon it's beaches
Exhaling one small note of the ancestral song

Airless, fertile, mute, and I am
Clinging to the rope of the shoreline.

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