Ann Arbor Review
INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
from up here the river is brown-
uniformed, a restless guard
dutifully separating the living
from the merely lively.
is the green
of nature's turf. the lively
is everything else--
the toy cars raced by invisible hands,
the cages of steel & glass
where engines run
on blood, sweat & pride,
& the roads, clad in black;
aged referees running through
the impatient plans of the world.
diminished by desire, I succumb--
like every one of the restless rest--
to the riotous rhythms of these stands.
every now & then my gaze falls,
like a gloomy shadow,
on one of the many hands
of fate, each painstakingly adding to the stone score-
board beyond the river's edge,
the names of yet more living dead.
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