Friday, August 29, 2008

The world is too much with us

It's not panic, not anxiety or the rush for breath. It's seeing the figure after gazing too long at the foreground.

It's relief. Remembering. Awakening. Seeing the bonds that crisscross, that strangle voice and seem to forbid movement. Nothing is forbidden.

It's head down in the muck, swallowing the muck, stuck in the muck. And way over there, the sun.

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