Wednesday, October 14, 2015

beckett's ghost




As darkness' ark of obscurities moors out of the blue
Ιnto daytime, its ghosts are poured and enter the light,
Distilling volume and mass with their strong
Spirit (aka, daydrinking dayconstructivism).
A nonday is timed precisely as one pleases,
Clock handles and numbers daylightfully melting.
In a standstill of the brief sun-sinking moment,
A full term dusk is bursting with immaculate perceptions.
Daymares will be kept dormant by choice, if not stillborn.
Next morning, daybanked; a farse, a non sequitur.
The night,
Ohoh,
The night,
Is in daylight rendered,
As dark and intense as possible.


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