Tag Archives: night
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. Advertisements
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.
Night’s chance encounters, gifting the timbre of myth– Love’s illicit wake.
Rupture in the night, sharp crescent benediction– every fool hooked.
Lamplight’s soft white hive, sourcing Solitude’s tender– slow walk through Heaven.
The aureate secrets of silence, stuff stars are made from, and us, cocooned in gauzy slumbers, wink and blink and nod till well-scored we become cinders in a torch song, long-since faded.