Charles Borkhuis
Blank Page Already Black
to write is to bring
night into the house
darkness
when fingers
reach the wall
in hand a cave
crawlspace
within the curved palm
enclosed by digits
to dream of a pencil
while fire talks to children
sky the billboard's frame
touches my head
letters scattered to remember
the page is an overgrown forest
forensic first words
climb inside their sounds
shining suits of armor follow
a trail of echoes
through night branches
lost voyage
in seasons spinning
arm over sentence
overhead
not one word at a time
but cluster's imprint
if language then wires
buried in a cramp
the outside wall within
turned to tissue by naming
we are made of
what we are observing
blank page already black
centuries written
over each other in the dark
I could see it better
if I weren't in it
erased space to breathe
in sleep I float
an arm down stream
syllables in the skin conspire
thoughts are animals
that cast no shadow
Charles Borkhuis is the author
of Hypnogogic Sonnets, published
by Red Dust Press and Proximity (Stolen Arrows).
He lives in New York City
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