Night Driving

Stars burn holes
in expansive darkness,
carpeting the sky
in fire.

The night is liquid,
and we fly.

This poem has been an exercise in minimalism for me. It started out this summer as a much longer piece, and I've been paring it back ever since. But I also feel like it is only part way through it's process; it had to be pruned back in order to grow into something new. I wanted to share this particular moment in it's development with you, because I feel good about it's current simplicity.