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The World Dissolves
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
31 The World Dissolves We fail every time at surprise. When you lose yourself, you face south-southwest like the caged bird. It can’t be helped. In the field, something licks dew from the autumn grass before the shoots return to frost. Somewhere the sun spends its flame, the sky shatters through its glass. At certain hours of the day, your body floods with instinct, so much of you having been entered. Limbs follow when you lie down, a shadow of your own, curving to every curve like the Hebrew alphabet into Greek, letters cross the page, greet each other mid-history, bent under the heft of familiar cargoes, the sorrows, the collective hope of cells, call it, or bare faith of the body. ...