night comes down,
shadows on white;
shapes and sounds
of dark and light
on this page
this scenic square
I seek an image
that’s not there
always edges
far too near
for an image
to appear
in this walled
white page
this cell
this cage
always the eye
rearranging
earth, sea, sky
words changing, changing
till the angled blade
of the pen digs deep
as any spade
to the dark of sleep
there to grasp
beyond confusion
with a final gasp
the ultimate illusion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem