The Book of Quiet
Keeps of light discover the evening: falling perfectly to the dark, scatter shadows that lick the tips of trees
swim as fish through circles way the night splits open to waking: a stone drops, moon drawn, trawling
lengths of quiet that fizz before breaking against what edge the years have rubbed us smooth and dumb.
From Edges (Athens: Lycabettus Press, 1974) © Michael Harlow
Comments Last updated 20 March, 2005