“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Weightlifting words
There is not enough silence
or white in the world.
There seems to be enough water,
when you look around
the circumference of the globe-
have you noticed
how long
we have been wrong
about power and drainage-
As magnets naturally defy resistance
or make magic with retrograde,
nothing else matters
but shine...
And distraction, interruption, and
compulsion
become utilized and oxidized
to fill in the surrounding blanks
with loud, explosive air
we refer to this as
white noise
and we are sinking in.
Sketch by Lorenz Frølich [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Scanned by Haukur from a reprint in the illustrated 2002 Prose Edda edition by Gudrun. Originally published in Gjøgleriet i Utgard (1872).
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