Parading

That’s why Monday, when it sees me coming

with my convict face, blazes up like gasoline,
with my convict face, blazes up like gasoline,
and it howls on its way like a wounded wheel,
and it howls on its way like a wounded wheel,
and leaves tracks full of warm blood leading toward the night. —Pablo Neruda, translated by Robert Bly
and leaves tracks full of warm blood leading toward the night.
—Pablo Neruda, translated by Robert Bly

atoms

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