some beautiful metaphors

The poet described the winter sun as-

"a sun that shines
as if it doesn't mean it."



Nothing More
by Brian Andreas

Often, I write all day long
with white ink on white paper,
late into the night,
until it is all I can do
to feel the letters
curving to earth
from the tip of the pen

& then, I fall asleep.
dreaming of running,
or maybe driving
in a car the color of water

& I wake the next day
remembering nothing
& I gather the stack of paper
& a pen of black
on the desk in front of me
& and the words begin
to dance over the page
like long legged insects
across a still lake
& the words in white
whisper behind & underneath
the new day

If there is any secret
to this life I live, this is it:
the sound of what cannot be seen
sings within everything that can.

& there is nothing more to it than that.

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