drowning gone
worlds spending the time of day
our
sixties retro gallery on the ridge
where
the falls went down to the mangroves
a
streaming portcullis forever angle land
tactile
slosh of hands on plate glass
reaching
through Who-like to another realm
the
film of the idea based on the sea shanty
damp
smell that portends a day of great art
patterned
cascade between us and centuries
such
a peculiarity Melbourne goes into outcry
it
will not be removed the wet rendezvous
curtain
of tears and what have you nailpaint
germs
no major revamp will exterminate
nor through night flux
mainly truly undeep.
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