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I am king of doodads on the shore
blood field reports;
ninepin whales bast-ing in
Shrunk, we sip microcanteens
as we wait out
Safe upwind I am wastrel
Bomb craters are swimming pools
I embalm sunburned waifs below
and treading
What works?
rampart stilts to guard the land?
Sword trinkets
And when we hand you the strip
Nothing
How then
Tread...
