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Traffic Back from Home.

Traffic Back from Home

   Near the river clinch, the river goes like the human life world
   as if there were windows, which is a famous problem: what if I
   were sleeping? Behind this rancid beast of burden around
   this tremendous pasture in the dark. The outlines of other
   beasts as if everything were open or made with a latch and
   small pulleys. As if the burden were diminishing--the
   grabbing muscle spooling out--or my chest were turning the
   electrified fence.

   The truth is there. Growing things grow on it, an alley of
   acids and bases. There is an Arabian horse of turtle shell or a
   giant cat wrestling a reptile.

   There is covetousness, begotten of an old churl in a leather
   bag. The cast is authorized but one of many. A Mary holding
   a girl holding a dolly: the narrativity of mental life ... a story
   rather than a set of rules. My lolling tongue says this way is
   real and mine; that my way is very straight from here.
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Author:McCollough, Aaron
Publication:The Carolina Quarterly
Article Type:Poem
Date:Dec 22, 2005
Words:168
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