by Eric Pankey Europeana At the pace roots grow, I make a descent into the depths but with no exit plan. If there is a hell to harrow, so be it. If in digging, magma is released, and lava flows downward to the sea, so be it. If the shades will not be coaxed forward by sacrifice or bribe, so be it. Downward to darkness, like a drowned man with stones in his pockets. : : Was it night fears or fever that embodied me, burned a thousand scriptures onto my retina, that dull gray sl