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This page reduces seeing to something bodily and exhausted, as if vision itself has become another burden of civilization.

The poem moves from perception to emptiness very quickly. Its plain diction makes the final refusal of being taken anywhere anymore feel earned rather than dramatic.

The View. Didn't I see it. Wasn't it everything across my bones. I lay and watched but that isn't seeing. Crushed like little life. Civilization beginning with being empty. Force took me from one place to another. If I were younger I would not take me there anymore. The book's note on disillusionment.