These are two poems by Jim DeWitt in Issue 5, 1999, back when we were still Voices From The Well.
Middle Night Courage Needed
Know that there's only one low-watt bulb
crouching up inside my pullchain lamp. How it strains to
chew away some smidgen of surrounding roomdark.
Listening close, you might hear its valiantness-for-its-
size penetrating out into sections of the blackest
speckles swarming in to surround it.
Pressuring shadow morphs that do seem snarly
stubborn. Ever angrily swirling back, determined to
overwhelm my little dim-glo bulb, break its spirit.
And right from the veryinstant of my switching it
on, Bad-Old-Blackness has flexed its long shadowed
other self. Seeming much more than just-somewhat
disturbed out there . . .
After Six Hours Suspension
Something stirs you awake. You rise out of cozy
comforters but sight tells you you are too soon for the
coming sun. Curious, you peek out the blind's chink as if
bent on catching night with one of its secrets.
None are seen moving, so stealth helps to place
your body back in. Sinking beautyrest, it calls on that
same something which woke you to reverse-gear you into
more of that temporary suspension soft . . .