SpringGun | Issue 9 | 2014

Page 10

And once a boy, I threw a baseball at the sun The sweetness of sweat & autumn stung Somewhere, in Hebron, a boy is throwing a stone at a tank Somewhere, a starling drifts unaware that earth fixedly moves around the sun I outgrew baseball the day I learned heavenly spheres move always and that God writes the Book by parallax and seals its pages    ( like the culled issue of Time    on my bathroom floor ) with only God knows what

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