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On dark,

The sky outside has been rip clawed
By the points of pressure that leave
A paw shred that bleeds wine
Remnants of the day we let slip by

At intervals of ten, at least
I drop out the back to watch it
Darken into a hardened scar,
And there it lingers in quiet air

Waiting for a rib of wind
To tickle it into submission
Where vestige leave it may take,
And by degrees, dissipate, a dark sea

While I keep watch, the wrens
The rooks, and all their ken
Flit past its quiet dismembering
Into a dark that I can’t

Quite forget, as the last shade
Reclines behind a hill
And yet, I think, if I clawed hard
Enough at the towering darkness

I could pull the light back again.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Just the view from the back of the shed.
Editing stage: 


I also like the tattered sky at nightfall as the storm retreats. I think you might leave out "clawed" in first verse. It works much better in next to last line. In stanza 4 line 4 try darkness instead of dark, just reads a bit better to me........stan

very good. needs a bit of work.
The overall tone of the poem is a bit "Thomanesque" which is not a bad thing, in that so many of our poets are so influenced by Oliver, Collins, Plath, Eliot, etc...consciously or not. such as:
While I keep watch, the wrens
The rooks, and all their ken

I think it's good to go back to our root influences, as long as we are aware. I think the end f the poem is stellar. Lately in revisiting my work after a few days/weeks I try to cut it to the bone in what is the natural habit of poets to over explain, to repeat the same idea in a different way in different stanzas. I think this is a 3 stanza poem plus coda, not 5. Not sure we need intervals of of ten, and some other stuff..also, I disagree with the comma in the title.
As usual you have great gift for words and poetic idea. This one I think can be trimmed a bit, leave a little of the abstraction out to get to that great last line.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

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