Here at locustheart where they take your shadow and shave its edges just enough
to take you by surprise.
Like when you pass between two streetlamps and the second shadow rushes to pass from behind you
to in front of you.
Here the cold and crawling skin that radiates from the base of your skull and intensifies
with its own awareness.
Like the fear of being alone in an empty cave where unseen lives seem to leer
from the umbra of your fire.
Here is where you begin and here is where you end.
March 2011
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