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Collected Poetry

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poetry and digital art

Diesel Eddy  

Book three of impromptu trilogy.

  The Evening Light Clouded with Quiet Melancholy


Only so that I might know, I want my chambered heart
(its curious metaphor) to rise up in sheets like this
      awkward light
and to hold, like its step-father, the sky, its own emptiness, clearly
in its own service and self-substantiated.  I want each chore
      to arise
as a choice I can make to succeed a constrained effort
or to dispel a misjudgment of my own, slow, uncertain
      aspiration.
If dusk propels its offers as incendiary tools
I wish to approach them kindly and with conviction—even
      if rain falls (and thunder accompanies)
I hope my shadow will dance on smoke-blackened walls
with other shadows like mine.  As stars rotate in bondage above
      with shining, barren planets
we practice our fool husbandry upon the valley floor
while in the distance the enchanted city begins to glow
      through the ardently star-splendid night.



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