Disorder Painted
Disorder painted
In the mist
Like Turner’s
Flailing ships,
Fog steeped storms
And waves,
A crumbling cave
And a mourning,
Unease dropped
Like a warning,
A bent colonial
Seafaring song.
Then a mystical sunrise,
A seep of burnt yellows
Stained in a
Deep rusty peach,
A sighing ocean
Exhausted
And its crooked,
Lapping tide.
Scattered detritus
Hooked on rocks,
Moss licked
In coves,
A cranny
Where those old
Snapped words
Our ancestors left
Are pieced slowly
Together in tropes,
Kissing the ages,
Left floating
Forever unfound.
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