The Wildest Night of the New Moon
Detachment from
Separation from
One’s life like a window
Not an eye gazing through
The odd gap in the wall
But the hole the gap the window itself
With nothing there on either side
No cross
No reflection
Nothing to reflect
Like a portrait of the ideal
Of null
This goes terribly wrong
Shifts focus to blur and haze
And fog without context
Or consent
I do not consent to this
I do not promote this non-being
Still, there is a peculiar logic to the void
That strikes three chords a bell
A shatterless cymbal or two
And I know the greatest monster
Is the ogre of ennui
Fearful of angels with talons
Of blue light
—by Douglas Pinson
Lustful Celebrations