Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Ghost Priest

A sliding haze

in dark-webbed branches

     wavering gauze-edged, inhabited

     by a voice furred with frost,

a haunt of gilded questions.

love gnaws me

     a phantom

     grace             splits from that pale mist.

*Illustration of erasure*

An erasure of Sylvia Plath's Dialogue Between Ghost and Priest

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