Mar 29, 2016
Inky Blots
Ink surges over paper,
Molecules coat molecules,
Distinguishing and interpreting light,
Dark squid ink over fallen trees,
white as clean ash
giving birth to understanding lack there of
The sun sets on me
Extinguishing
as paper goes from snow to dark,
and my words become muddled and mixed.
We seem to lose something important at night—
shall we find it?
An ability to speak? To think?
Perhaps to distinguish ourselves from our words, actions, inactions?
Or perhaps it is nothing we lose during the day; only to find it again in the surge of the moon
the creak of the floorboard
as I write I attempt to find nothing
for I have forgotten my nothingness in the hot sun