On a Night Never Seen
Sweep up your shadow
But you can’t turn back.
There is no other way
Through the black glens
Or the lens of an eye.
A keeping, a stride,
Into episodes that arise.
Equidistant:
The interior egg
Until cracked open
To . . .
Brick, a literary journal
Brick
PO Box 609, Stn P
Toronto, ON M5S 2Y4
Canada
Each poet will write / their own hell. In mine, like yours, / I’ll be condemned to beauty. — Yusuf Saadi