Sunday, February 15, 2015

These Days Comments

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Days, these days,
are all the same,
like fish swimming
in a goldfish bowl,
...
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COMMENTS
Daniel Brick 18 February 2015

You end the poem with the same melancholy awareness of the flattening of experience of time passing because so little in the calendar still galvanizes people with common purpose. And the absence of those holidays/Holy Days means people meet only during the working day which inspires neither sharing nor spontaneity. Thus rthe calendar records the sameness of things rather than keen anticipation.

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Frank Avon

Frank Avon

Pulaski, TN
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