All Things Invisible

In wide open spaces
I confess my love
for all things missing.

I have no secrets,
no wounds, no burning
destiny, no sacred tablets
to deliver me

from invisible.

There is a story
about a boy
who swallowed light;

and it ate him
from the inside,

until he became


On the subway,
a woman cried out


and burst
into flames.

No one noticed
the fire
of her skin.


josef_k said...


I really like this poem, especially the first verse. The spaces between things, the missing stuff, the light - all one for me. I was in Barcelona recently - the light there is alive....

I linked you on my blog. If thats not ok let me know & i'll remove it immediately.

Rachel Phillips said...

Thank you for your supportive comments and for linking to your
blog as well!