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The Blank Sea. Upon arrival, The Unexpected Empty is packed with Juvenile Jubilation. Under our necessary junk we travel Van full to the brim with plastic, cotton, and Velcro. Determined to make only one trek, We hoist our things like peddler’s sacks Each crunchy, labored step
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Upon arrival, The Unexpected Empty is packed with Juvenile Jubilation Under our necessary junk we travel Van full to the brim with plastic, cotton, and Velcro.
Determined to make only one trek, We hoist our things like peddler’s sacks Each crunchy, labored step A measured mix of anticipation and regret
At last, the spot. Or maybe here? No, There. Perfect. But even perfection clogs
Bouncing and Bobbing over frozen surf We delight in each crash, curve and dip Little ones and Little old ones abound Who take to the icy crests Diploid Penguins with goose feathered chests
We take Wingless Flight And in that weightlessness, We feel limitless Forward, Back Swing and Sway until the final Slip Then The momentwe came here for
Then Envious Gravity Calls In a flurrying flash, We feel our feet again.
More In the Blank Sea Surveyor of our Infinity In the silence we sit Both dreading the return hike But yearning for More.