Liberation & the Sacred
Fall 1997 Vol. 14 #1
Fall 1997 Vol. 14 #1
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Either
I am dying
or I am not.
Perhaps
there are
small animals
under the house
mouse, racoon, rat,
gopher though none of us
can find
a trace.
And late
a small plane
makes a
straining sound
low over the trees
though only I am
awake.
Moments of quiet
are absolute
with depths
like the depths
of small pools
high in the mountains.
Everyone has the flu
rising and coughing
taking this or that
for the rasp.
Behind the blind
light still burns
at the edge of the bay.
Someone drives over the bridge.
Home is
in every direction.
∞