Black Hole In Purgatory Poem by e.e. wilholt

(original title: “Sketches in Abstract”)

I.
Many years have
Weeping willows laughed
And laughing hyenas wept:
Tears shed
Of mirth and sorrow mingle and flow
Into the Sea of Darkness.

The wind in
Sorrowful fury cries
Never is the World
To be free.
Stone tears crawl down
A woman’s porcelain body
And drip into the Sea of Time
Where turbid salt waters
Furrow the edge
Of a flooded continent.

Sorrow lies on top
Of a darkened rock.
Beneath ebb of cold waves
Silver fish laugh at the beach;
Grains of sand are dancing
For the sea is dead.

II.
Dawn parts from her lover
In a flash of tree-torn lightning
As it rips away the underworld
And frees howling spirits through space.
Peace lies in a reservoir
In the bowels
Of the Bottomless Pit.

At the end of Day
A lost girl’s sorrow turns to light
When the sun rises
And the moon flees across the night,
Trailing its emblazoned message
Like comets in a frightened sky.

III.
Never-ending will
A futuristic scene be played;
But eternity will end abruptly
When Creon
Gives his proud sigh
And blood flows
From Antigone’s heart
Into Haidon’s lifeless mouth.

A corpse flows like mercury
Over the starless desert
For the Milky Way has been drunk:
Taken into the mouths of Night’s children,
Taken into the blood of their fathers,
Turning meek children
Into fierce warriors.

IV.
When my mother
Proceeded to murmur
At her father’s simple coat
He came with all fury
To stamp the fragile flower.
She cried, green drops
Spilling onto its inert frame:
And at last the realization came
That life is not what it should be.

He stopped her
When she returned
To bury the building,
Saying it was not right.
She plucked the life
From her grieving eyes
To end the unstoppable river.
No longer able to cry,
The dead eyes asked
That her mouth do it for them:
To avenge all remorse
It spouted red anger,
A trick it had learned
From her heart.

V.
The chair asked the table,
Why are we
Forced to sit together
When all we have in common
Is the wood of our faces?
Personally, I prefer the spoon;
It has a better personality
Than the fork
Or the knife, for that matter.

Asked the link on a chain
Of his comrade,
Why are we forced apart
By an anger not ours?
Oh, for the life
Of the knife and the fork
Who lie side by side
On the table.

Said the food
As it was eaten,
Why draw me inward?
When my best function
Is in earthen landscapes:
Like a mushroom cap
And blade of grass
I am related to the Earth.

VI.
Now:
The middle of Day turns blue
And Beginning fades into End.
In Between,
Fiery hearts’ drumming
Becomes frightened sobbing
At the dark end of Ages.

So:
Dusk is drawn nearer
While we are drawn farther away.
The sun and moon will unite
As we become
One with ourselves
Like magnet poles
Forced against their will.

On the Sabbath day
We spit upon our tongues to take us
Into another world...

And so it is said—
That which has no meaning is meaningful.

** ** ** **