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Kamarck, Edward (ed.) / Arts in society: the arts of activism
(1969)

McCarthy, Eugene
Part II: Chicago, August, 1968: the day time began,   pp. 349-350 PDF (1.4 MB)


Page 350


The sky was a kite,
I flew it on a string, winding
it in to see its blue, again
to count the whirling swallows,
and read the patterned scroll of blackbirds turning
to check the markings of the hawk,
and then letting it out to the end
of the last pinched inch of
string, in the vise of thumb and finger.
One day the string broke,
the kite fled over the shoulder of the world,
but reluctantly, reaching back in great lunges
as lost kites do, or as a girl running
in a reversed movie, as at each arched step, the earth
set free, leaps forward, catching
her farther back
the treadmill doubly betraying,
Remote and more remote.
Now I lie on a west facing hill in October
the dragging string having circled the world, the universe,
crosses my hand in the grass. I do not grasp it,
it brushes my closed eyes, I do not open
That world is no longer mine, but for remembrance
Space ended then, and time began.
DISTRESSED MAN by Ben Shahn
Courtesy: Kennedy Galleries, Inc., New York


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