There
is darkness at the edges
just
night that removes colors
without
permission
automatic
deception
after
daylight
before
the morning refreshes
all
the important thoughts
I
am not depressed
I
am just dull
and
not able to keep
an
interest in myself
at
this hour
I
know the sky
is
packing sunlight
into
empty suitcases
for
a trip around the world
The
sky and the air
that
surrounds us
is
an illegal immigrant
without
a passport
unable
to do any
reasonable
work
except
to provide us
with
air to breathe
and
protection
from
the emptiness
of
unconquerable space
So
there is an opportunity
to
let it fill out the paperwork
we
so desperately require
The
questions we have
on
our forms
are
not given enough paper
to
answer
unless
we allow
the
answers written on atoms
even
then
we
aren't willing to learn
the
language it speaks
we
try oh yes
however
our
mismatched intentions
are
similar
to
giving a tuba
to
Thelonious Monk
which
I have no doubt
upon
which he could
make
some kind of music
The
question
on
a high numbered line
might
be
would
it be his best music
With
that I've run out
of
space to provide answers
to
anything important
The
sky and its unpacking
the
light of day
have
me seeking
a
dark closet or empty drawer
for
a gas-filled mind
waiting
in the spark of light
Barry
G. Wick