follow the light…

my version is this
I have my version of this fancy.
It’s a poem of, oh, say sonnet-length;
it’s supple, undisrupted. It feels like this:

I close the door. (Behind it: gabble
and disjunction.) And I walk into the clear,
black night. I’m in a great arena. Nothing
can be seen – there may be nothing to be seen – except
of course for the ball on fire. That’s all I need.
That’s all: the darkness, and one burning sphere.
And I follow its light down the field.

-Albert Goldbarth –

follow the light

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