By Voster O'Brien
The eye opens and dominates the all.
I rise, but the sky rises with me, seems impossible to touch.
The distances close slow, close achingly slow, but close nonetheless.
My soul is as a snowball,
Too driven to stop.
- - -
Born in the hills outside Von Der Burg in the midwest, Voster has been a school teacher for twelve years. He loves fish and thoroughly loathes greenbeans.
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