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MICHAEL SMITH
UPSTREAM
You must go upstream But be vigilant For rocks of shallow nostalgia May ground you In your search For beads of racing childhood Which you scattered Where time vanished In your leaping of rapids And bloody-kneed You must spill them out There, on polished table-tops Shining Before glassy-eyed shamen Who will nimbly thread And with their embracing arms Pinning your shoulders Bury the circle. Bone deep So that your blood crackles And oozes like tar into the seams And turbulent In the sweeping flow of returning current You will be more buoyant More tightly caulked As you navigate Down river You will still feel the pulsing.
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