Zeus,
I tithe:
your might,
delivers me,
timely,
to the light.
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Reading: M – Black Monday by Marcin Świetlicki
Today there is this compact poem by Marcin Świetlicki for our ideosyncratic anthology. As usual, I'll say what struck me about these lines. The moment when all the town's streetlamps light up simultaneously. The moment when you say your incredible "no," and suddenly I don't know what to do next: die? go away? not respond? ...
We work at night
The air is standing tired a strong white light pierces it, but never encounters anything such is the space we are in Time is an old friend at the door who must wait until we fix what we will be broken to-night because of that light hitting us But the hours didn't count the hours ...
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