Beautiful Cellars Poem by Steven Federle

‘No clock: only the Heart's blood. Only the word.'

'I think poetry must,
I think it must,
Stay open all night
In beautiful cellars' Thomas Merton, A Book of Hours

High round windows
over wide glass doors
fill with night;

The world's gone to black,
to void,
to nothing.

Can you hear your whispering blood?
- surge of surf, wind in dark trees
alive - alive -

so arise now and go
down the noisy steps
to the beautiful cellar,

to the poetry.