PoetryAloud

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Eusebeia Philos Reads Leslie Philibert

A Blind Man Looks at the Sea

Let me be sighted in the sea wash,
late waves, back water

that curls as foam under the Moon,
my face pulled to the tide,

my eyes brothers in salt,
no startlight, no endlight.

Gulls sing at the first
slight wind that changes

direction in my ears.
Let me drink all this;

ebb and flood, wind and sea,
sea and wind, flood and ebb.

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