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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