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WYCH HAZEL

on the planet Terror

 

Her chiffon scarf quiffed stiffly under the jib in the salt spray as the sea flashed by like polished pewter.

 

There was an inclination in the upper sky towards the anthems of Debussy’s Sirčnes, the distant contralto aahs rising and falling and vanishing on their way in sudden lathers of strings and horn.

 

The islands were slowly materialising like bruises above the morning ectoplasm of the horizon.

 

She had met the need these lands, these seas, had had of her.

... 

  

(For full text see the Kindle ebook The Nature of Things (Collected Poems) by Alan Marshfield)

  

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