Poetic Appendages

The legs and arms
Are not returned
To the sea,

They would be trees
If they could be returned
To the sea.

In these quantum afternoons
A sequel to the past
Is not always the future.

To appreciate
This,
Organize the self
Past immensity,

Into terror, into humility,

Then bring it back
In of breath
Here,

A rucksack sorrow
No bigger than a nutshell.

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