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the left hand of a crucified god
Nothing but anticipation rises with highways stacked for a city ten times the size of this. Roads were on the ground when passersby expected to pause for what they found there. Now they float among church steeples so travelers anxious for elsewhere can pass over in-between. Most drivers have no idea how close they come to the left hand of a crucified god where that steeple brushes the Interstate. His head bows over empty pews that still recall west sun through stained glass before the road to Dallas cast its shadow. © Steven Schroeder
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