Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines
By DYLAN THOMAS
Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads,
The things of light
File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.
A candle in the thighs
Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
Where no seed stirs,
The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars,
Bright as a fig;
Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs.
Dawn breaks behind the eyes;
From poles of skull and toe the windy blood
Slides like a sea;
Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky
Spout to the rod
Divining in a smile the oil of tears.
Night in the sockets rounds,
Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes;
Day lights the bone;
Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin
The winter's robes;
The film of spring is hanging from the lids.
Light breaks on secret lots,
On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
When logics dies,
The secret of the soil grows through the eye,
And blood jumps in the sun;
Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.
By DYLAN THOMAS
Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads,
The things of light
File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.
A candle in the thighs
Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
Where no seed stirs,
The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars,
Bright as a fig;
Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs.
Dawn breaks behind the eyes;
From poles of skull and toe the windy blood
Slides like a sea;
Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky
Spout to the rod
Divining in a smile the oil of tears.
Night in the sockets rounds,
Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes;
Day lights the bone;
Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin
The winter's robes;
The film of spring is hanging from the lids.
Light breaks on secret lots,
On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
When logics dies,
The secret of the soil grows through the eye,
And blood jumps in the sun;
Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.
(The Air/Stirs...)
By LARRY EIGNER
The strength of a wing
The bird hits
The front door
Ah glass
And the wind flows
Stripped metal
Brightness of sun
A change spreads in the air
(Note that this poem has slightly unusual formatting, that would be difficult to replicate. I recommend finding this piece on your own, if you're interested.)
By LARRY EIGNER
The strength of a wing
The bird hits
The front door
Ah glass
And the wind flows
Stripped metal
Brightness of sun
A change spreads in the air
(Note that this poem has slightly unusual formatting, that would be difficult to replicate. I recommend finding this piece on your own, if you're interested.)
Hey fellas, I found a bird with a broken wing today. Anyone know what to do for the poor thing?
Update: I got in contact with a wildlife rehabilitator, and will be moving the bird to her in a few hours. Regular content will resume shortly.
Here's an excerpt from a new short story I'm working on. Well, the first draft of a new short story, anyway.
Hi, I know I normally try not to post political stuff in here, but just a friendly reminder that if I see that you have Nazi iconography or racist messaging on your profile, you will be removed. I don't want your support.