176 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
176 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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### ###
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### ###
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ## ## ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ##
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#### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ## ####### #######
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[ Mudfishes ] [ By Robert J Berry ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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1. READING
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(for Ahila)
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eyelashes dip on the open book
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She is reading
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will not look up
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The words are printing tall tales
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on the intricate lace
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of her feather hazel head
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Lean long wrist bangles
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reach down
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Turn the page
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my page
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She rests
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then her eyes walk
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A scarlet moon is rising from
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the printed ink
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Her ankles bracelets shake softly
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This is for you to read
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2. EEL
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Wind bowls up surf
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Sand glass sharp
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Shelter under these knuckled boles
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Watch cloud savaged open ______
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After the storm
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delicate red feet
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pick to the ocean's musselpools
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Wade
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Down
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into the rubberbrown arms
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of sea plants
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Salt garments of the drowned
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Clutch rocks
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Eel
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stonegrey, a ribbon of gut
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Sees
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3. WALLED GARDEN
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Painted pots bake on the gravel
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The latch of the gate is
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Hot to touch
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Come in
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Sticky fruit is falling
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On a jar of jam
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A wasp walks the sweet rim
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Black cat
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lavishes in sun
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Water gathers in one corner of the garden
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Stands Smells frog-green
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Brown veined leaves are burning
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Snakes hunger about the greenhouse
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and a cold angel
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Thinks
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On the neat box hedge
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4. ASHES
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(for my Mother)
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Swing the mattock
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Slice the baked clay
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Flints, chalk
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The blade works through
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marrow of roots
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fashions the six foot plot
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Cotton seals my mother's nose mouth
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... Her rings favourite dress
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I do not know you
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earth sun-brown
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rills onto teak
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over final flowers
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I am standing farewell
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Then Tonight
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Your lips still
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Your mask chalk
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5. FINGERPRINTS
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Evening bleeds red
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Into the skin the pores of the sky
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Night's head is bent towards the slow wash of the sea
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Her feet moving over the gravel
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The Channel bills the land
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The tide turns a shingled hand over the
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Blue chin and black stubble of the sand
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The salt grass old thorny bushes
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and sudden crimson flowers
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of the dunes
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Then damp open scrub
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Houses built here
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Dark peat and kindle backed up
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Driftwood burning acrid spitting
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In all our homes
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The heavy animal sound of the ocean's rollers
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smothers us.
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If I press with my fingers in the dark
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They shall leave no mark.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #458 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #458
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http://www.uxu.org/
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