Spilling Ink I wish black death would come over the skies
and flood the limelight
in the sight of which we all must pose;
so that I can prowl the streets
do my rounds
harden my feet;
be the Dancer of Dark
blind for lack of sun
come at one with blackness;
I wish the clouds would vanish
with a spill of ink
and all rain, sun, life be banished
so the souls and spirits are free to think.