PART OF WHERE THE POEM CAME FROM Emotions: Powerlessness, empathy, tenacious in face of futility Song/Sound https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_M9muYyYxhI HYMN OF THE BIG WHEEL By the canal, a boat is moored. It rests without sails, like an old Dutch painting, windless and stationary. The path by the creek winds with the rush of spring, opened up by bird song. My russet dog sniffs a trail of all those who came before – inhaling the weight of centuries. He runs as free as a soul released from a body. When I walk with him in these strange, long, heavy days I feel the same. A sympathetic displacement of myself into a dog’s body, some kind of transspecies transference. The crunch and snap of twigs underfoot and I’m back in a café at a time when we could sit face to face, convene over a coffee wait all day for what we needed lean in a little closer. The way the earth leans now, on its axis so I can hear you breathing all of you, out there in your silences.
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