Transparent
My sins haunt me
In carless parking lots and empty bathrooms
In carless parking lots and empty bathrooms
When the harsh glow of streetlights,
Or florescent moonbeams from mold-laden fixtures,
Reveal my stains.
My skin becomes
Limpid.
It no longer shields my dark-crusted soul,
But no one is there to see
My beating heart and the blackened abscess that grows over
Its pulsing strength.
Reveal my stains.
My skin becomes
Limpid.
It no longer shields my dark-crusted soul,
But no one is there to see
My beating heart and the blackened abscess that grows over
Its pulsing strength.
This rather macabre poem I wrote last year was the inspiration for the title of my little room in the world-wide web. I think moonbeams are one of the most beautiful things. Their fluorescence in this poem, instead of their usual placid gleam, gives them a harsh illuminating quality which metaphorically pierces through to my bare soul. This blog too, I hope, will be a similar tool of illumination and incisive clarity.
