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Green Island at Low Tide

The world’s pulse, warm, briny, spilt nectar

came flowing forth from rock-pore labyrinth,

came wisping, trickling, a littoral specter


haunting Zhaori basins. In spite of death,

the salt-blood, white-fizz sea through

tide pool lungs in rasping ebbs drew breath.


Could the ocean still hear its diaspora

in empty shells? Or would it soon forget

the battered shores the land is master of?


 

Julian Kanagy

Julian Kanagy is a Chicago-based poet and editor. His poetry samples a Midwestern upbringing peppered with loss and abandonment, thrives both in the confines of formal structure and the simplicity of its absence, and expands into an ongoing search for the beauty in everyday life when it seems to be hiding. He started Heirlock Magazine to amplify underrepresented voices and The Wild Umbrella to celebrate writing for writing's sake; both as an editor and in his own work, Julian follows the advice of a mentor: “find the poems that nobody else could have written.”

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