Friday, June 28, 2013

Penumbra

I don't
know why—I just
feel so
much
braver running
in the shade—
where recumbent
shadows—of roof-
points, fenceposts, tree-
branch spangles—leap
at once;
to crest and cool
my feted
forehead as it passes.
It's like—if
everything
the bald light touches
is domain of
some tan
king somewhere—
then
everything it doesn't—
might just

as well—be mine.

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