The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole . . .
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
...
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That's funny, I almost laughed out loud! (in reference to the comment made by Meghan Void, NOT the poem) . The poem, though, truly is simply gorgeous...
This poem makes me want to stroke the screen and tell it how pretty it is over and over again.
i like this poem... :)