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Beyond the Frame
by Earl Coleman
I call them pleasure stones when
I caress them
on a Tanguy beach of kelp and scuttling crab
surreally advancing toward the sea; the waves
gone witless in the sun, and seething in their
impotence to break the chains of tide; the gulls,
like pterodactyls in their endless flight
dive-bombing minnows as a dolphin rises up
and walks on water for a second and a half.
(Published by Connecticut
River Review, 11/7/02.)
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