Black Dog

Every now and then I read a poem that makes me wish I had written it.  This is one of them, in spades, as my Dad used to say.  God, this is a fine poem.

I like the way this encompasses heaven and earth with such a pithy, ecomomy of words.

There's some fine imagery here. The rotating earth likened to a whirling/dervish dance; and sky emptied of stars, which lie strewn at the feet.

Earth's gravity can root us down, pull back the dreams that strain to fly. There's a terrible weight in those black holes and black dogs...

Rgds., Alan.