Blackout Poetry · April 30, 2022

A blackout poem made from a page of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. There is a drawing of a wilting flower on the right side and a skull at the bottom.

By Helen Marino

no Time

time ages forward.
you dreaded the future
the future is not real.
I feel a minute pass
the dull soreness
gives the silent and terrible answer,
Time pervades.