The descent beckons as the ascent beckoned
-William Carlos Williams
Again the slow expansion
across the bottom of the fall
I feel an emptying of my being
a bruise beyond my baser self
a part of a universe too vast
to fill with my scribbles tonight
Yet I write anyway not like Rimbaud
flinging pages defiantly into the abyss
more like a fourth little pig
building a house of words to await
the wolf’s slavering tread
subtext 