Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw? Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow? Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?I'll hope to read more from Sandy Williams in the future. John Gunn
UPDATE ~ And Rick Foster's writing 'aint bad either. A philosophy professor from AU features in the Gray Lady and good writing in the B'ham News makes me wonder if the stars have aligned oddly for Alabama today.
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