Skip to content
Menu

Poetry

It’s funny how light sifts down, out of itself,
______________________________________funny
How thin, erasable darkness seeps up and expands,
Gauzing the underworld,
______________________everything suddenly stopped,
No wind, no movement, no words,
The wheel stilled, the crack to the radiant world closing in on itself.
One way of putting it.
____________________Another would be it’s twilight time,
Last clouds chasing each other across the western mountains.
Along the scarred creek bank, nothing stirs.
Dream of the golden fire piece, however,
________________________Is ever-restless, ever-turning.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Welcome to Image. 

We curate content just for you. Subscribe to our weekly newsletter ImageUpdate for free.


Pin It on Pinterest