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| Excerpts > Spring 2004 |
Terry Wolverton Paradox Paradox In the midst of singing is silence,small gaps of breath. The billowed lung soon empties of its air. Every thing contains its opposite: Love changes its blouse to emerge as loathing; good fortune shrivels to despair. That star we yearn toward is the radiance we fear. Haunted by what we’ve escaped, we cling to overstuffed suitcases that open to reveal the void we carry everywhere. Shadow can’t survive without the sun’s bright beam, and death holds life in its coat pocket, fingers stroke it like a lucky charm. |
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