Charles Wright's Metaphors of Ink

I had wanted to post my advance review of X-Men 3 today, but I have to wait until the paper says I can print it here, or until I can just link to it.
Suffice to say the movie was attrocious, Matrix 2 and 3 bad, which is as bad as bad gets. In the meantime: poetry.

Landscape with Missing Overtones is the first poem from Wright's Buffalo Yoga. Here is the whole thing:

The sun has set behind the Blue Ridge,
And evening with its blotting paper
                                                               lifts off the light.
Shadowy yards. Moon through the white pines.

Wright is a very "bookish" poet and often likens nature to writing. The central two lines here combine simplicity and ingenuity wonderfully;
the metaphor works perfectly even though the colors appear in "negative": blotting paper (white) is the night sky (black) and the light (white) is figured as ink (black). The title poem of Buffalo Yoga has another extraordinary ink metaphor:

A poem is read by the poet, who then becomes
That poem himself
For a little while,
                            caught in its glistening tentacles.

Figuring a poem as having tentacles seems like a bad metaphor at first glance — too much a stretch, weird for the sake of weird — until we remember that tentacles primarily remind us of squid and octopi, two creatures known for producing ink, the stuff of poetry.