Just some of the stuff I've made, am making, or am maintaining.

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A fish pitched up by an angry sea
I gasped on land, then I became me
A product of the sun coughed up on the beach
In black chinos cut off below the knees
With a salt parched throat, I struggled to talk
To lone angler positioned on the rugged old dock
Lost in the bucket of worms with mad slack on the reel
No other concerns but a meal
As it, ha ha, what is to be will be
And no cares of ours can arrest the decree

adelphia at protonmail dot com