Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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Turning in my fingers, polished pieces
of broken shells, enclosures of essences
mysteries of substance, cast up upon
this cognitive shore, before the crash
of swells, broken waves, surge seethe
with the reach of tides, froth of blue
vastness disturbed, closely watched
flow of unsettled fathoms, deep water
crystalline transparency, conceiving
thoughts revealing, for the first time
what has always been there, enclosed.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 3/25/2013