Thursday August 23, 2012

Sound is out of the east. And even first thing in the morning, the machines at the quarry sound tired. They bellow. They groan. They keen.

2 Comments


  1. COMING BACK

    He is back. Holidays are of little use now.
    He wakes up only for his tea these days.
    Walks out to the porch and he hears
    the groaning of the wind, the keening
    of wheels, the bellowing of dead places.

    —Albert B. Casuga


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