Black Hole (Or, Eclipse)

   Not every black bird is blackbird, Wally, Wally Stevens, some can be starlings, be crow, and be ravens’ weird unkindnesses smack
  wild to the sky, now why call it that? those nouns’ collective? like a surname? why explain it
 in the negative? unkindness? what it mean? just
    — as —

not every winds’ pairings spring alarum, some Sirene, others Salôme, for any company, argonaut 
      or friend or foe, 
distinctions they do matter (mediocrity ain’t it) specific words matter (black mediocrity ain’t it
   as not every black is black, tho I be black
bird singing in the brisk, shifty, grayish, might-pour weather today (not every black need be excellent) weather 
   in New Orleans is windy brisk, versus madd brick, so you see I get it, everything can’t change 
or slip, just as not everyone is artist and what even is a “creative”? artisan or laborer you mean? —but care remember the heart, (it is time again, we millennials, to do

   work) the heart in all totality, of our galaxy? yes? (werk) it is in total eclipse,
the event, right now, 12 som’n PM, exactly, April 8th, 2024, so that I’m captive (but not slave) to it,     
    my femme gaze, 
 less eros than in holy attitudes, be pulled up, at, and into,
 —  for gazes penetrate

My silly mortal eyes, to look up at its majestic, if scarer or rarer, corona’d majesty, chilly eclipse, what appears to me now (behind Warby Parker glasses) the deepest, 
  O! the Blackest of, Wet 
  origin, Black 

Way Back. A boy looks down a manhole’s hole to see what work some shadows do.

Copyright © 2024 by Rickey Laurentiis. Used with the permission of the author.