Remembering Greece

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At noon in this blue cove of the Atlantic a stiff breeze gets up, exactly as we've seen it do off Delos. Poseidon, to whose unease mumbling Delphi purported to assign some meaning, is quiescent here. Snoring under northern shores, the Earth-Disturber has hardly more than whimpered since, enrobed in thickening catastrophes of ice,

the drowned once-mountaintops of this red granite all but suffocated in his bath -- today so blue, it halfway dislocates itself to the Aegean and becomes, if only in the way events can weigh upon events, the bloodied bath of Agamemnon.

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