| This Edition's Poetry |
Albatross
The southeast wind is blowing a hundred and
The albatross flies easily over its home
Wings barely kissing the ocean
The barometer falls to unbelievable depths
The green sea rises ahead of you and
You pray that the bow comes up yet one more time
You’ve held your pee for six hours and there’s no more strength
When the tide changes after the slack the wind stops and
With the hot stillness the albatross disappears
Only the seagulls remain skimming the surface
Searching for a ball of feed
by Mike Florian
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