I once read the night sky
like a favorite book, which
no longer needed notes or gloss,
so close to my heart lay the book’s
meaning. I stand, hatless and thought-
less, beneath those cosmic letters
riddling my fortune, measuring
my years still in earth, ever ready
for the shallow sleep at night, or
my deep sleep once and for all.
A MAN ALONE
Poems by Daniel Brick
Woodcuts by Franz Masereel
AM A N A L O N E
POEMS BY DANIEL BRICK
WOODCUTS BY FRANS MASEREEL
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