Nov 142013
 
Evening is here, and the house is cold
With a coldness darkened beyond what eyes behold,
A peculiar, unusual dark I neither name nor know,

A dark inside the darkness of the cold,
A dark beneath the dark of space,
A below-dark or beyond-dark or before-dark

Out of which the dark of space
Begins its becoming nothingness,
Its peculiar, unusual dark

Wherein pleasantest monstrosities adhere,
Adhere and grow gigantic--
Heavy drapes blown-in in the storm's besetting onset,

Knocking one candle dark in the swooning room,
Or swinging darkly out to outer space 
In the wind of stars,

Through which the universal edifice slowly swoons
In its own peculiar, unusual dark--as if
The shadow of a shadow thrown against

The shadow of that from which it had come.

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