I miss so much when the internet is down. No Oracle yesterday, but she gave me a whole string of poems in a particular form that I’ll post sometime.
This consultation (quick before we lose the signal) is grim, but it fits yesterday’s OctPoWriMo theme of black.
The fat in the fire, wind in the sky,
like the angry voice of the universe,
screaming into dumb eyes and open mouths
that see secrets
where there is only smoke.
Can you not see the black
in the spring sky so blue,
the darkness on the edge of town,
the shadows on the water?
Cry to the shining sea,
stop these lying tongues,
soar with the light.