Now I ask, how can anyone write this good (?):
Bow Down by Carl Phillips
i.
As if he, too, could see the world,
just in front of us,
coming divided: those who step
routinely toward a dark that, mostly,
has seemed avoidable;
those who let them--
World from which,
if for no other reason, then
out of pity, I should
look
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I feel like that most of the time when I read literature :)...
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I've spent about a week trying to understand how you connected the poem with how one view a work of literature.
Got back to it today and realised it was to my comment you said it to.
Braindead? *headdesk*
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