Lyric maneuvers through a narrow space,
a blade of light squeezed under a dark door,
hence more condensed
(less being more):
a distillation of the day’s events,
white underbelly weirdly gemmed with dream.
But must it not also
be thinner and thus slip
the more adroitly through the haze of sleep,
time’s keyhole? Molten gold,
the little knife of light
stabbing the dark night.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
The German Gambit
Reinhard Cardinal Marx stated recently that the German bishops intend to issue a formal liturgical blessing for…
On Aliens and Our Alienation from God
The Department of War recently released dozens of files, dating back to the 1940s, of UFO sightings.…
Thomophobia
Every year the American Library Association marks “Banned Books Week,” a celebration devoted mostly to books…
