Thought gone

dark needs
nothing more of it-
self, needs dark

alone woven ink-
black through blackened
light. It’s an ancient
tool, this gathering—

basket of shadow, and it
glistens still with

use. Hummingbird’s
quick glint, crow’s winged
fleck of
night: these last
few things

slip vanishing
through, leaving
again this dark
harvest of origins.

 

 

 

img1
Bill Jensen.

 

 

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