The street curves in and out, up and down in great waves of asphalt; at night the granite tomb is noisy with starlings like the creaking of many axles; only the tired walker know how much there is to climb, how the sidewalk curves into the cold wind.
Charles Reznikoff, Seamus Cooney (2005). “The Poems of Charles Reznikoff: 1918-1975”, p.157, David R. Godine Publisher
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