Your voice I know. It had me terrified. When I hear it in dreams, from time to time all my life, it sounds like a taunt-but dreams distort sound, for they send it over many waters. During these hard days, I, a pilgrim, am giving my consideration to this. I trudge along the bottom of the river and the questioning goes on in me. What are we made of but hunger and rage? His heels rise and fall in front of me. How surprised I am to be entangled in the knowledge of some other animal.
( Anne Carson )
[ Plainwater: Essays and Poetry ]
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