Boxed out
Of narrow light
Even this beam
Can't lay hold
Of bars
Tightening
Out of worlds
Obscurely
Nothing dawns
No pleasure dome
Is draft enough
Everyday epiphanies
Are brought up
Barnacled
The worst being
Muscle bound
Rise up
Rise up
And out
Of your striding sleep
Cribbed
In shallow wafting
Your second coming
Slouching
Waits
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
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