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Two Kinds

Casey, Paul

"Plenty sits still. Hunger is a wanderer” 
Zulu proverb

We’ve come both of two ways
on feet of plenty and hunger
feet that walk from town to town
or bog to cliff and city to hill
that walk savannah in the salvaged soles of tyres
that carry all they are

Feet that walk the pavements of cities without cease
leaving earthquakes in miniature to coalesce 
in their seismic love-affairs
feet that breach electromagnetic labyrinths 
where feral equine ghosts strut 
their glories at the heels of dying dreams

Feet that curl and crouch in the coldness
only to walk there, to walk back
feet that walk into paradise 
on a road near a mountain of sun
where winged coelacanths spray star-infused water 
across their broken arches

Feet that march quiver-sprung ready to run 
through the trenches of near-dead cities 
past the shuffle of infant footprints 
long lost in swirls of a dead-red dirt 
feet that tread the decks of Atlantic ships 
dipping and rising on the ocean cornea

And the feet that stay still

Copyright © Paul Casey 2012

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