Faulty by Dah

Sky is simmering gray
I watch it through the window
clouds are muscular

I am a leaf
on winter’s branch
the one who shivers
like an owl

Sometimes I mask myself
so parts of me form

dazzling illusions 

If sky were cold ash
this would be my mood

a dark room


a blown bulb
that’s difficult to change

Sometimes I replace it
with a hundred-watt bright
Sadly that blows out as well
because often

my ruminations are screwed

into the world’s faulty socket

© Dah

Excerpt from the book The Opening

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About the Author

A prolific writer and an awarding-winning photographer, Dah has been writing poetry for many years, and according to himself, he has not reached the degree of writing that he knows exists somewhere in his mind. Dah is working on his next collection of poetry.

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