The Light As We See It

Its rays are arms that drape the
painted background of the deep
and motionless cosmos; it seems
ghostlike or inanimate, though
closer, through eyes inset like
recollecting jewels in the black
découpage the time dilates and
all our sprawling animals advance;
yes, there is life, and dying that
newly scatters life’s original
rebutting essence—it is artist’s
chalk drawn upon the black
retracting canvas, and as colour
fatal and radiating, incorporeal
from the star speeds through
space’s caverns the earth entire,
the galaxy, the cosmos scatters
backward, becomes its first dim
imprint, swells again in terms of
incertitude—like the chimera,
and is light as we see it, the sense
of light, or lack of shadow, or
hopeful flaunting of one’s dreams,
star-desert, uncertainty, the power
of air and the impending surge, the
idea of the living, gross anatomy
of space, open chalice of ghosts.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


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