Sunday, February 13, 2011


Fear envelopes bones like new skin,
envelopes blood with night’s skin,
the earth moves beneath the soles of the feet—
it is not your hair but the terror in your head,
like long hair made of vertical nails,
and what you see are not shattered streets,
but rather, within you, your own crushed walls,
your frustrated infinity …
–Pablo Neruda, “Cataclysm, Part X”

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