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Sandpiper

Rating: 3.4

The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.

The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.

- Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
April G 08 December 2017

Elliot C brought me here!

2 0 Reply

A very delightful piece of Elizabeth Bishop. A masterpiece

4 5 Reply
Michael Morgan 27 February 2015

Thank God for Elizabeth Bishop. One of his more amusing creations.

3 11 Reply