Denis Bold: Drawings

The Diary

Thin lines
Of silence

Are waiting
To be named.

Misunderstood horizons,
Stones, still

Struggle to be read.
There are windows

With no walls.
There is hiding

Even here, alone
In corners or in pages

Of black ash, in pleats
Of dark necessity,

Hiding the last
Of our glass secrets

From the light.
It is a shattering light.

-Denis Bold