← Back to the archive
Visual interpretation of "Revisit the darkness": What force draws you back to walk; the winding tunnel of

No. 055

November 23, 2024·9 lines·1 min read

Revisit the darkness

the gum-dropped concrete—

What force draws you back to walk the winding tunnel of those old blocks, the accidental urban pointillism of the gum-dropped concrete— a frustratingly indecipherable key. But how can you remind yourself to search for light without revisiting the darkness?

Checking who has held this poem...

Part of your record in the archive.

Sign in if you want your name to stay with the record.

Keep this one close.

Saved on this device. Part of your shelf.

Send the line onward, save the story image, or pass the poem to someone who needs it.

Share on XPinterest image

 

Sign in if you want shares and story actions to carry your name in the archive record.

If this poem stayed with you, the next one will find you.

A quieter way to stay close to the work. One poem at a time.

New poems and explorations

Delivered by Substack.

Hear the poem in one breath.

A studio reading for the archive, voiced with care and restraint.

Studio reading
Revisit the darkness0:00 / 0:18
Read the original post on Instagram2 likes on Instagram1 comments
Part of a living collection since September 2024.

A way further in

Not the final meaning. Just a closer read, a better question, and a few nearby poems worth opening next.

Pay attention to the shift in the middle. That is often where the poem chooses who it is becoming.

Opening line

Where the door opens.

What force draws you back to walk

Center line

Where the temperature changes.

the gum-dropped concrete—

Leaving line

The line to carry out with you.

without revisiting the darkness?

If you came here carrying something

Start here if you are shedding old skin, rebuilding, or trying to become more honest.

Selfhood

Good company for the seasons when you can feel your life changing shape under you.

Stay in the archive a little longer.

If this one stayed with you, keep it. Then either leave a note, keep moving through the archive, or ask the Studio where to go next.

Notes for Collection No. 55

A guestbook for the poem itself. Leave a response, an image prompt, or an image link if it belongs in the same room.

What force draws you back to walk

A good note starts where the poem stayed with you.

Loading notes...

Every note becomes part of the room's memory.

Say what stayed with you, what it opened up, or what line you are carrying out of the room.

Sign in if you want the room to remember your name.

The reading room

Loading notes...