From A Spell Called Home
After reading Calamities by Renee Gladman

When, on some day after you begin,
having acclimated to being so close
to something massive, like the ocean,
the scale of which you’ve never
come across before, especially something that moves so,
though you don’t see it, the ocean, going
about your daily business—grabbing coffee;
texting yet another man you don’t know
about what you’d do to each other if you did
know each other—you catch the train
as it comes into the station and it’s as if your whole body
is on the pulse of this massive beast,
this horse surging forward, taking you with it.
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