A poetry journal of everyday clippings |
| This Dark Thing "I am terrified by this dark thing" Sylvia Plath Dark weaves its web at the center of the earth, celebrating a black light of a certain glow, not so kind, changing plain stones to stars --all mystery and splendor-- then to black holes, like a fierce ascetic sending vibes, drilling holes in your life to turn all your words into shrieks, for you lived worshiping shadows with future diminishing and a steel wind in a haste; still unfinished, you hold up a lamp with the flame of your oracle eyes. |