“I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
……………………………………………………….
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet”
Frost, “Acquainted with the Night” (3-4, 7)
“Every street lamp that I pass / Beats like a fatalistic drum”
Filed under December 2012
"Infinitely Gentle Infinitely Suffering Thing[s]" 
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