Monday, April 23, 2012

Harriet Zinnes

Where Little Light Is

In the shadow
where little light is
memory flickers.
The unknown wavers
to be known,
and the ghosts of time’s personae
walk with white masks on their pale faces.

There is no time.
There are no moments.
Hovering are passing fancies,
and all becomes a carnage
of the nightmare of timeless imagery.


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