Snappy enough to scroll past: Snappy enough to scroll past and still cop a chuckle.
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In this poem we each sift:
In this poem we each sift sand, scan rockpools and listen to the surf, all of us chasing a single elusive shell. Our intertwined voices turn a simple question into a quiet meditation on search, shape and the spaces that define us. No spoilers—just an invitation to lean into the salt breeze and join the hunt.
I am as enchanted by this: I am as enchanted by this poem in the same way as the first poems I ever read during my adolescence. I have kept it open in my browser since mid-morning (and it is now 1:18pm EST). One of the compensations with which my old age and declining health have been blessed is to have been able to see this great outpouring of your Poetry and, especially, this particular Poem.
Revisiting this, I feel: Revisiting this, I feel exactly the same as my comment in 2003. In my old age, I am haunted by Pompeii, although I take comfort from the presence of the Rosary Cathedral in the city's vicinity.
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