‘Coastal burn’ were the original words,
A feeling of expanse across water plains. Flatness extends to clouded skies, Struggling sun to break through. Here come the sparrows a’ pecking for grubs, A mast sleeps high. I wandered through tiredness Night shift changing the slumber posts. Manic expressions left their disease, A desire to please beyond anything seen. Ball sacks swagger between canine hinds, A nose sniffing for traces of territorial claims. I make peace with the ease Words stumble from pen, It was an exaggerated plea Got my ass rushing to seat. For I had to kill time, And sleep evaded the watch. – A Kererū comes to say hello Little mutts prance on by, One squatter a piss in the grass. Fem-sparrow checks me out, Fem-persons were never that forward. Saltwater burn an aqua blue, Light reflection a convoluted mirror. Words run dry, They always do. Saltwater never lies.
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