What Sun

What sun.
What wonder. What black
spot. What flash. What wind and
luminosity. What death. What blood
red holocaust. What heat. What patient
waiting. What shriek. What song of sadness.
What day. And now what night. And what mess.
What cold. What weather. What harvest of human
flesh! What fun! What woods. What caves. What sunken
shelters from the storm. What men. What knives. What
fear. What ugly nets and hair and groins. What hale.
What God. What hope. What water and pail and
snow. What soil. What stone. What strange and
longing wailing. What visions. What dark sky.
What signs. What houses. What trees. What
eyes can see. What soul survives. What
heart and depth and will. What love.
What whistling tune through
leaves. What rush. What
sound. What dull thud.
What living dream!
What enduring
charm! What
hex and what
trick, what
hell, and
What a

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!


Gabriel Muoio



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