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HISTORY
Day climbs towards its ruin. Houses crash in clouds of plaster dust, drained to a last trickle of their momentum. Great oaks slumber in their growth. Here historian is observer unobserved, an other-worldly figure from a future interested only in event, though mostly nothing happens, and they never stop to examine landscape's empty occasions: birdsong; sunlight; how morning warms to a slow drip, drip from trees, and later alone in a cool twilight garden, waiting to see an olden light from stars, to think how time disperses atoms of what was. First Published in Acumen © Paul Surman 2012 |
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