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[personal profile] mandy12052
I have no idea why I saved this next bit; perhaps because I liked the poem. It's a photocopy out of a book. I have no idea what book, but I'm assuming it's an anthology of some sort. This poem apparently appears on page 27 (as denoted in the upper right hand corner of my copy).

Proletarian in Abstract Light
By Thomas McGrath

Now on the great stage a silence falls.
In the long shudder toward collapse and birth,
There enters, singing, the muffled shape of a future.
He has no face; his hands are bloody;
He is for himself; he is not to please you.
You have stolen my labor
You have stolen my name
You have stolen my mystery
You have stolen the moon

This coldness of song goes on in his barbarous tongue.
The hours continue like snow. The marble weight
Of his dream, like a heavy cloud, leans on your glass houses.
Expropriated of time, he begins himself in his name;
He stamps his null on your day; the future collapses toward him:
I do not want your clocks
I do not want your God
I do not want your statues
I do not want your love

As an aside... formatting this to make it appear as it does on my photocopy caused me to learn a new-to-me html tag in order to make indentation happen. Neat!
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September 2014

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