Friday, September 26, 2008

±

It is as if I am walking underwater, or, rather, not walking, since the tide I am pushing against is not strong enough to drive me back but too strong to allow me to progress. My lungs ache, my head beats, my heart does nothing—the other two appurtenances have subsumed its activities. I am swathed in water. They are lining up terracotta poems in channels on both sides of me.

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