Delight in its Place No light? Then eat it. Go down in darkness on it, Feed and savor, host it On a sacramental tongue. Of essence, hunger's mute Insistence makes a meal. So hunger more. Be God's mole, and Dive away from the day's rude light, Nose right in and burrow to The roiling planetary core, The boiling-house of appetite. Delved deep enough, cold earth Is fire. As below, so above: In hidden quintessential love Delight conceives in surging things: In its cave of chest The heart in darkness Leaps against the walls. In the cave of skull The brain in darkness Thrums with hot surmise. In its cave of self The soul in darkness Blooms, exfoliates Trajectories of longing Longer that the eye can see, Auroras all invisible, A darkling webwork strung From everywhere to everywhere And yearns to breed with stars. Joe Wrobel |