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Hazard of the Die

A collection of poetry by Grace Wilson

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Space Strike

You can take your brazen stars, sham sequins
Blazoned on the regal cloth of heaven
And trembling like tuning forks at matins
As they flee the blotting sun, driven
Pale and melting, out of sight. Oh, I
Was taken in until I stubbed my mind
On the black holes that ream the streaming sky,
A synapse between us flaring from a blind
That hid the dark compression of their light.
I'd climb into a burnt out star and shine
My own small beam, and never mark the night
Within its dazzling darkness as I mine
From rich and mysteried lodes the power
Of imploded aeons pressed into an hour.

Hazard of the Die cover


Prize up a stone and turn it toward the sun,
Name a star and fix it in the sky.
Sift the dormant hours, one by one,
To glean a quickening dreamer drifting by.
Spell a word and tangent echoes ring,
Launch a thought, then track its scandent reach.
Sound a note...its counterpoint will sing,
Strike the flint--its very spark can teach!

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