The Next Page With a low consideration of our collective actions we work the world and hide from those three dark days that follow every thinning moon. The leaf's imperative to fall does not reveal the certain root. Instead, we call upon the augury of failed faith and the endless ever busy gathering of ancient apocalyptic signs. We wish our children more and in that we are a crow, calling our dark desires, flying above the choking smoke of our frantic fires of creation. When the page turns, I wish it to be blank, not filled with me, but full of mystery that they can write from the root.
Mark Clement's Questions:
1. Is it too preachy or pedantic?
2. Does it give the impression of being contrived?
3. Is it too obscure?