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Wednesday, June 5, 2013

The Last gift for me....

The sun rises and fall, but if I don't take time for reflection then my life is a wisp, an artful paradox that blends into the day of blurriness, filtered nuances and unmarked times, metranome dialects and figures fading in and out of sight.  I am doing 2 jobs now, no time for reflection...
dreaming of my mother
being locked in a church
people in Duluth are in L.A.
people in L.A. are underground in Duluth
the heartbeat of the city rises and falls over the Lake Superior skyline
in Duluth, you have this sense of gravity as the ancient buildings overshadow you
in North Country, America is old and for-boding
the heaviness, the mining industry, the day laborers
creep along the sidewalks
some depend on the bus
the outlook gray and dismal
as the foggy rain lasts three extra weeks
I lost my inner timer and split ray of sunshine
I smell doom and incandescent mist rising from the fog
of the green ferns and new birch leaves
I am now in the wetlands of Esko 
as I drop of Cris
clouds fade to hills
glacial rocks and eskers
clouds mix to condensation
the sun rarely shines
people go inside
to read
and forget
Leif Erickson reminds them of their history.

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