This, The Light Was Harsh , is the first poem in the month-long series of daily poems, Violent Verses , posted for the month of October 2009. (I reversed the dates so the reading order is better, dates are thus... backwards.) The light was strong, violent. In his anger, leaping out, he’d made an imprint and puffed her soul to bleed. She knew he would soon stop- end his rage toward anguish and The gaping holes in the walls would attest to his frenzied decorations. His dreadful, pitching heaviness would suddenly meet such stiff and frightened jaws, her redness emerging, and her cries pleading to let go. I can’t tell you anymore, Not without putting a hole through a wall. I can’t tell you anymore, for I am a man whose rage might leak like fearsome light through a cavern at dawn. I could read everything, all there is to know about man and still not know where the hell we are, still not know why or when we fell away into such ferocious shadows… Perhaps I’
(The Weaver's Song)