The Beethoven LP has arrived. But life, not all of it good, is happening, and I haven’t even taken the album out of the mailing sleeve. Hopefully, tomorrow.
But for now:
For Jen on Her Birthday, 1995
When mopish darkness raises sullen hand
And would usurp within its single sway
All worlds, all skies of sweet and singing thought,
To silence them and fetter, so that not
A fleeting hope escapes to raise the day
Then lucent in the night a friend can stand
To blind the blinding gloom, that, unaware
It yields the ground (all in its own despite)
To pure and poignant joy, like sudden light
Outbreaking from a sane and secret star.