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Kamarck, Edward (ed.) / Arts in society: the arts of activism
(1969)
Willard, Nancy
Part VII: poems of vision and action: a poem to tell the time by, pp. [434]-436
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Page [435]
The next year I packed and left. Like a cavity in my tooth, the city throbbed. For thirty years I painted its heart white, courting it from scaffolds with colors and cries, licking its bridges silver, its offices gold. Now I am black as the air I breathe. On hundreds of screens, in eyeballs turning to metal, cowboys and Indians settle an old score. I stride into Woolworth's and purchase a pistol. From my window I can shoot the new leaves off the tree of heaven. Each night I kneel in sleep to spigots and boilers and hear the slow leak in my heart. By the ocean a child frayed as a dishrag taps my knee. What time do they turn off the water? Each night I shoot the black bull who knows the way home and won't tell. Etching by Richard Wilt
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