Saturday, December 19, 2009

James Dickey

If you would run

If you would quicken the city with your pelting,
Then line up, be counted, and change
Your body into time and with me through the boxed maze flee
On soft hooves, saying all saying in flock breath.
Take me there.
I am against you
And with you: I am second
Wind and native muscle in the streets my image lost and discovered
Among yours: lost and found in the endless panes
Of a many-gestured bald-headed woman, caught between
One set of clothes and tomorrow's: naked, pleading in her wax
For the right, silent words to praise
The herd-hammering pulse of our sneakers,
And the time gone by when we paced
River-sided, close-packed in our jostled beginning,
O my multitudes.
We are streaming from the many to the one

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