Past rich hotels and gated snowy parks,
Steel bridges spanning and subway trains rattling
The stations of the living and the dead,
I follow the unreasoning river to
A building like a ship that’s lost the tide.
In that stone hull or nave, the elements
Revert to early versions of themselves,
Maintaining order as I enter, watching
Till the depths appear to be familiar,
Heavy doors anchoring down the stillness,
While the tight blood threads the ego’s maze,
And the old mind recuperates its bearings.
Sole occupant of this unbusy world,
Abject as a shipwreck where she kneels,
A crone holds out, salvaging her substance
With the long groaning pulley of her beads.
We have no …
Something to Consider
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