Encomium To The Source
Petrified cloud, blasted slate-grey and rose by ice So high as to appear an airship, static. Only in Winter weather do such clouds shape From the space between themselves and the stars, The nearest mirroring of ourselves: On their side, the Silence, to our Voice. The emptiness within the shed, between wood and ground Is like that space, there at the beginning as the empty grave Until I fill it gradually with a violence (Which moves me to paint upon […]
Categories: Uncategorized
