ON THE CAST OF AN OCEAN
There's nothing amiss. My friend, the armsman,
he has explained it all very well : the streamlined
sinecure of the white of the sea, foaming at the
edge of the ship. We look like gulls to the things
we chase - feeding off the throwaways, the slop
and debris af another world. 'There's beauty
where you find it, my friend. It all comes
down to taste, and silence.'
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