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                only distant shores were lighter
                under the slight horizon

                but hung with plans foreboding
                dark within the ears; we

                rise, we fall, and the water
                would be ink of the deepest thought

                but the violence of no repose,
                and our footing will soon be lost

                before we make a catch
                of chaos; galactic fingers part

                from the moon, gulls hurl a-swear
                in three directions, and we are

                in swollen nowhere, depicted
                solely by silvery highlight


fetched from the swell of Fishermen at Sea, 1796; (The Cholmeley Sea Piece); William Turner




being wormhole: pediment to behold
clouds wormhole: London, 1809
groundlessness wormhole: sun setting over a lake, 1840
horizon wormhole: La Route, Effet d’Hiver, 1872
identity wormhole: on facing the Have
moon wormhole: ‘streetsigns …’
night wormhole: ‘… and yet I think I am so modest: …’
sea wormhole: we held cold hands
seagull wormhole: where did the silence go
society wormhole: pursued
thought wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees
water wormhole: YOUNG SYCAMORE by William Carlos Williams