Thursday, October 16, 2014


If life made inroads into faces
the way it runs its highways into dreams,
the curving lines of their strange graces
would alter utterly what each soul seems

to be
a blinking new reality:
a view

through which what so far only limps
toward the Beyond
might glimpse
its thinking Dawn

and drink it deep
and make it inner.
And sleep
with it, and be its dinner.


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