I wonder how they see the universe. Those
that might be a little more unencumbered, a
little more free? Is their night half lit instead
of half dark? I worry the engulfing murk till
it opens an ear. Till our angst matches our
scars. Till we promise each other a share of
invisible moon. Light is the preoccupation
of those who see the outside. I close my eyes
and look within. Half universe. Half poem.
Emptiness sits in a half full glass, uncomfortable
and wet along the rim. But the poem immerses
itself in the darkness, sometimes a word gleams
or a star catches its shout for help. Freedom
is the hallucination of those trapped on the
inside. A universe where poems swim or sink.