Running

Running

A Poem by Irving Glass

His legs pull loosely beneath the air


And muscle forms against the skin


And loneliness condenses somewhere in him


As the night goes farther on


But Jack is running deep inside himself


The run that never ends


That continues without sanction


Into darkness into air


Into loneliness and life


And happiness and death


Into everything


The only thing there is

© 2016 Irving Glass


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Added on June 6, 2016
Last Updated on June 6, 2016