RunningA Poem by Irving GlassHis legs pull loosely beneath the air And muscle forms against the skin And loneliness condenses somewhere in him As the night goes farther on But Jack is running deep inside himself The run that never ends That continues without sanction Into darkness into air Into loneliness and life And happiness and death Into everything The only thing there is © 2016 Irving Glass |
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Added on June 6, 2016 Last Updated on June 6, 2016 Author
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