Monday, July 31, 2006


Still normal or Norwegian

Some wet light beams through town

Wet fishing the streets or corroding

The bank face and street mood

With cold, wet ship light, what is after

The radio and disasters of weather

What stings through line-of-sight

And whale sounds jaw loading

Dark shapes from ripple beams.

Saskatchewan brims landed

Solidarity in grass shelves, girds

Not fear of slipping, falling into

What is the water, sufferable held breath,

Not city shaped, sewer of burning lung.

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