Tag Archives: Light
Between thorny and immaterial, Heaven became them in the cold luminous light of Nephilim exacting double-exposure on celluloid.
The false portal, merely window dressing, appeared in retrospect, long after the floating disc of arclight had guided her past the wraith, and teeth of smoke, a daring exit into fathomless depths.
Out of the ashes arose nothing recognizable. Embers, in memory, projected a blank sheaf of light to cover the loss.
Wrapped snugly in a blanket of godlight, Thursday’s child indwells the symmetry of tigers burning bright to leave tracks on empty.
Destiny, the morningstar, hikes her dress up high and pisses a saberlike stream of light, honeyed pixels outsourcing guidance.
All my life I have had lighted window syndrome. Being outside someone’s window at night, and seeing the lighted window, its warm amber glow was an invitation to feel a sense of home, not to be at home, … Continue reading
A jigsaw scar of light, outsourcing God’s inscrutable heart, a movable sear lost and found everywhere, as the mouth of the cave brightly attests.
Mapping the bluest eye through a cave-dwelling perspective alighted.
Bracing the slide angle, where powerlessness begets a rim, a fingerhold at best. We play on, ordering encrypted light on dark notes, braving blights and chronic fade, we bless, jointly, by shudder and pale, with gospel caulking the sudden seams.