What I’m Trying to Do at
Show the darkness of honeybees,
the brightness of black holes
and light fires for the cold
where the graying ash that gasps its
last breath upon the fire grate and
the graying ember that hears its sizzle,
re-kindles and shines its light into
the dark corners of obscure night.
To release the laughing grass
and boisterous clouds and bury
the dead in living shrouds.
I try, try, and try to hear the shoe
in the closet licking its wounds.
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