There comes a time when the story turns into twenty <br />different stories and soon after that he academy of shadows <br />retreats to the cave of a solitary boy in a thriving <br /> <br />metropolis where no one remembers the original story <br />whic is, of course, a sign of its great success: to be forgotten <br />implies you were once known, and that is something we <br /> <br />can prize more than the gesture greater than the achievement: <br />but I wander from the main point: the main point is one <br />among many fine dots so fine you need a microscope to see them <br /> <br />but then they multiply like germs: the work of the deepest cells <br />is ergonomically incorrect, but effective nevertheless, like <br />my footprints in the snow leading to you, wou would be my father <br /> <br />if this were a dream and I on the verge of waking up somewhere <br />other than home: but the hours remain ours, though they <br />were gone almost as soon as they arrived, hat and coat in hand. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />[Glare is a book of poetry by A. R. Ammons.]<br /><br />David Lehman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-author-of-glare/
