Where the sun never rises,
\nabove my bed.
\nChandelier sun.
\nSky without clouds.
\nBelow an incandescent star
\nis opalescent glass
\nthrough which the light comes,
\nand there,
\nI see the crypt of flies,
\ninvisible until the light goes on.<\/p>\n
Small, black bodies desiccated,
\nunnoticed until the gray twilight
\nof rain outside
\ncauses the attention of the mind
\nto linger,
\nto see a place among places,
\nwhere things pause
\nand never wake.<\/p>\n
Where flies rested for the night
\nand I see their dark end.
\nSo I rise, not a fly,
\nbut no less immune to fate.
\nWe sleep, and sleep gone by,
\nwe end.
\nFlies in a crypt of light,
\na moment, and then wiped away.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Where the sun never rises, above my bed. Chandelier sun. Sky without clouds. Below an incandescent star is opalescent glass through which the light comes,…<\/p>\n