In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

retrieve it now. That busdriver grows bigger and bigger in me, comes back each day, moves across America, moves across North America and moves across the whole Continent like a great voice saying: We're waking up, we're waking, it's hard but we're struggling to understand and to fight. We'll fight (to anyone listening) and Come home (to me). JOAN WEBBER CENTER Pedalling through traffic heedlessly (Hair in my eyes, brakes wet, clouds rolling down), God's all violence, I thought, and laughed. The still Center's a fairytale. My pulse Quickens rip tides. We lay all night last night in each other's arms, But that's not it. On the mountain's slabby face, still raw After a million years, I reach For a crumbling hold. That's it. That motion in that place. 42 ...

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Additional Information

ISSN
2157-4189
Print ISSN
0026-5667
Pages
p. 42
Launched on MUSE
2011-07-06
Open Access
No
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