Oread

Whirl up, sea— whirl your pointed pines high over my head and lunate on the sea the point of the sea whose source is earth.

Whirl—whirl— the sea’s gestation of arboreal shadows, knotted and gnarled, with upturned roots
more like feathered fish, icily slapping the volumes of sea at the base of those obsidian rocks.

I hail the Sea gives birth and nurtures to every saliferous fern.” —H.D.

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