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| On the bar of Bar Harbor, Maine, at low tide. |
Red beyond the islands in the sound,
Red a pulse unheard on the machine;
Turn up the music,
Inland and smelling the sea,
Megabytes in time, rolled back and reeling.
Stoneman spread-eagled in the ash,
Eagle spread out against the sky,
The coast, the coast, and the old mountains,
One life in time, in time, time,
Entering the distance, both directions.
