No Yield

and all of the
days of my
life crowd me round
a-jostling and a-
whistling as if they
were all still living
in there, bead to bead
strung and stretching
back to the
first one begun - and
I carry it
hardly, bearing
my own being like
a whirling shield
like a charioteer
careering towards another
circuit - one
who does not yield
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