{"id":666,"date":"2010-05-07T08:18:00","date_gmt":"2010-05-07T08:18:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=666"},"modified":"2010-05-07T08:18:00","modified_gmt":"2010-05-07T08:18:00","slug":"benjamin-morris-is-seeing-through-the-dark","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/benjamin-morris-is-seeing-through-the-dark\/","title":{"rendered":"Benjamin Morris is seeing through the dark"},"content":{"rendered":"

Blind Light<\/span>

The path is black, the grass is black,<\/span>
the tendrils of the beech are black,<\/span>

and the water lurking in the brook<\/span>
is the shadow the night casts. And yet<\/span>

we can still see where we\u2019re going<\/span>
by the dull persimmon-tinted light<\/span>

the city gives off over the hill,<\/span>
stretched like satin over the clouds\u2014<\/span>

All Hallow\u2019s was weeks ago but still<\/span>
its palette thrives, here in this forgotten<\/span>

corner of the fens where a black cat<\/span>
blinks to vanish and the motorway <\/span>

has melted into myth. Tomorrow comes<\/span>
the first frost, but tonight we find<\/span>

dinner: our steps are quick, our words,<\/span>
few, and the gifts we carry echo loudly<\/span>

in our hearts\u2019 empty larder: <\/span>
having given everything since <\/span>

the last frost and found each other <\/span>
wanting, we turn to this silence <\/span>

upon the path as a final grace\u2014that, <\/span>
and a taxi home, lest this blind light lift<\/span>

and leave us in darkness, not seeing <\/span>
the way home, just knowing it.<\/span>



* <\/span>A native of Mississippi, <\/span>Benjamin Morris<\/span> recently completed a PhD in Archaeology at the University of Cambridge. His creative work (poetry and prose) has been published and won recognition in both the US and the UK; he is an editor at Forest Publications<\/a> in Edinburgh.<\/span>

<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Blind LightThe path is black, the grass is black,the tendrils of the beech are black,and the water lurking in the brookis the shadow the night casts. And yetwe can still see where we\u2019re goingby the dull persimmon-tinted lightthe city gives off over the hill,stretched like satin over the clouds\u2014All Hallow\u2019s was weeks ago but stillits […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-666","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/666","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=666"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/666\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=666"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=666"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=666"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}