Nod
I sail the night-
sea empty as death.
I think-not-am-not,
except for rare
bright cities
to which memories cling.
When I reach the shore
I rise to kiss the harbor.
sea empty as death.
I think-not-am-not,
except for rare
bright cities
to which memories cling.
When I reach the shore
I rise to kiss the harbor.
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