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Apr 2014
Yes, space was yielding its whole mental padding
in which no thought was yet clear
or had replentished its load of objects.
But little by little the mass turned,
like a slimy and powerful nausea,
a sort of vast influx of blood,
vegetable and thundering.
The very darkness became profuse and
without object.
The total frost gained clarity.
This poem is mostly free form and has no real iambic pentameter.
Casey Thomas McClain
Written by
Casey Thomas McClain  45/M/Rio Linda, CA
(45/M/Rio Linda, CA)   
880
     Casey Thomas McClain and ---
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