Night

A sudden sense of 
the breadth of night.

A scale
vast enough
to take its true measure
would encompass
all the possible
that is possible.

I have seen this 
before. I swear
my eyes held it
forever when I was 
two, when I was three,
before I was schooled away
from belief, vagaries,
and wonder.

Now
I don’t know
what to call it.
Then
it did not need to be called,

it simply was there,
and I was small before it,
and had no voice, and was
consumed, and content.

About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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