ducks are dying in the model yacht pond and while i shot this one copp, freshly bathed, jumped in. |
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i read somewhere or maybe it was in the film longford that none of us knows our true purpose. for some reason that's weird to contemplate. |
in the aqueous shadow of a dead duck. |
silence driven by fear |
sorrow for a duck may be sorrow for oneself |
the doom of us all so simply accomplished without effort |
tweak until you get the feeling, fading lingering flowers not wanting to be tossed, the ear palpitates and the eye dries wanting water so near, and, sustain that, for a while, somehow. |
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