← v6n2, Fall 2007
Poetry · Volume 6, Number 2

Tomorrow

The metaphysics of the quotidian was what he was after:

A little dew on the sunrise grass,

A drop of blood in the evening trees,

a drop of fire.

If you don’t shine you are darkness.

The future is merciless,

                                    everyone’s name inscribed

On the flyleaf of the Book of Snow.