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46 On฀the฀Bridge On the bridge he spoke of the lesson. On the bridge looking down at the water he saw the plankton. But under it all was earth, then liquid fire, then a hard core of smoky rock. So he stood on this bastion overlooking the dustbowl of the tides of the ocean. On the bridge he performed expertly a concert in his mind. Under the bridge flowed hastily the expectant waters. It was not a dead canal. In this colloquy of darkness he succumbed to the melancholy of the years, timing his minstrelsy to the gait of the ocean triremes. On the hearth of the bridge he carved his vagrancy. On the stallion robust of the bridge he grappled the suspension. Under the bridge there flowed like bourbon the delicious waters of the ice. Over the bridge flowed the sky, with its rivers and portals. The bridge was the only stationary thing for miles. 01.Poems.1-64_Fried.indd฀฀฀46 11/28/05฀฀฀12:33:20฀PM ...

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