right now

blood comes quickly through
hollow floppy tubes

swoosh swoosh back and forth
in and out and round the salt-body

break for a breath
break for a time gone past

in Nendrum we walk between
the circular and the tall

bleeding brains funneled into
grassy footholds

grasping toes

pity us fools

pity those who do not have

pity those who seek but cannot find

pity the few whose torment lies amongst the horselips and gorse

every cents worth a penny apart

every thought a mental gesture wasted upon ancient winds

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