Tag Archives: night
In a starless sky, night hastens to remind us– Ghosts pass softly, fade. Advertisements
To sire a riptide, the roseblood moon, fully engorged, sank lower and lower, its binding navel grazing the lattice mouth and lacy tease of a sea forever beckoning softly creased light to charge and mount.
Stars, numinous beads and cursive drag of ghostlight outerwear, how God models etheric bling, and jazz, to catch the breath and flammable fancy of lovers, innocent by turns, falling, softly, softly, in twining burning pairs.
Night swallowing its own tale of snake swallowing its own tail of night. (Artwork by Izumi Yokoyama)
The ongoing rabble and cinematic narrative in my mind is finding how nourishing and full and tender the heart can grow steeped in silence alone.
Nightwalk in a small town. Moonbleached adobe set against the snowglobular shakedown of flakes, as if dandruff from the itchy shaved scalp of God was falling, a phosphate rhapsody. Along the road, mudskinned snowdrifts, like albino coal-miners, crouching, or dispossessed … Continue reading
Within the plum-dark consciousness of God’s mysterious mind, Stars tells stories of unsung psalms seeded piercingly bright.
I have seen the stars travel in caravans at night, cursive gypsies aloft in God’s darkened mouth, the moon, a minted coin, or silver eyelet, peerless in its glint of visions and voice.
Stars, the luminous freckles on God’ night-face, or angelic winks from afar, lovingly rendered by a painter named Vincent who bore clearly his scars with exquisite faith.