OH SO MUCH ON FIRE
Being prone in Princeton all this
time has brought me very little -
a harvester at a glum oasis perhaps,
or a single, sorrowful man splitting
hours in a room. I have ransomed
my emotions for a dollar. Outside,
in the trash cans in the early morning
air, overflowing milk cartons, shirt boxes
and ribbons tumble down.
-
The glass-cutter's shop, even at this
early hour, is always busy - the Silica
Brothers themselves dicing sand with
all their early musics - and oh, we
are all so much on fire.
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