Pahn has been incarcerated for many years
He is walking up a
dirt road
along a gentle ridge
with the presence of
the warden in his mind
He hears the warden
say
that he has not been granted parole
and he knows
that he is not free
remarking
dejectedly
to himself and the warden
that it is a fine
line
between freedom and constraint…
…He turns to see a
small stream
descending the crease
in a hill
slowly filling a pond
The pond is nearly
full but
the rain has stopped
and the pond will not
be quenched…
…It is a fine line
he thinks
between plateau and orgasm
the warmth rising
from
the bare reddish
ground in the late winter
fills him slightly but
not overflowing
never ascends to joy
These things
he observes to
himself
as he rolls over
between sleep and
waking
uneasily
delaying the day
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