December 17, 2007


I wake,
see the blackened chimney
of the lamp, the lung
of weighted dreams.

Outside, bats
slice the night.

I want that handling
of vision,
that swift sense
of blind rule
and cleanliness.

—Anne Coray
from Bone Strings (Scarlet Tanager Books)

Posted by dwaber at December 17, 2007 03:57 PM