by TheBloomingIdiot

when we read a page of poetry
we read the dark
because poetry is darkness

a poem swallows you
and you find yourself in its shadows
you explore its inky murk
you collect its dust
until your coat shimmers
all around you with stars

you: the you
that anchors all your selves
down deep

I want to write that word in blacker ink
so that you can fathom it
so that you can hear in its echo
a million other words
so that by writing that word
I can conjure enough darkness
to end this

but every poem fades to white

Portland, Oregon. September 2016 – May 2017