You think of the star as somehow hung
from an invisible cord. Not so.
It blasts up and down, it spins-out blast, it
beams and burns through every ideal line.
White is the colour of everything
Black is the colour of nothing
The black hole swallows the whiteness
The sentence of light and its final punctus.
Saturday, 10 February 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment