Wolf Willow
Troy Gronsdahl, Yierasimos Kypriotis
We had lived in a dream where everything went right
On the disappearing edge of nowhere
Once white with skulls and bones
In the shadowless light before sunup,
No disappointments or failures show
The limitations of sight
We see only what we can see
And this is not a beginning, not a new thing,
But a stage in a long historical process of crossing that uncrossable discontinuity
And an emptiness,
which is total,
almost frightening
