Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;
Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection For Those Who Enjoy Poetry
PoetryThis is just a book of poetry. Some people really like just reading poems, and that's what this is. Some are by me, but some are just my favorite poems from other authors. All of whom I will credit in the separate chapters. If you're into that kind...
