Tag Archives: Stars
Carl Sagan curates a silent film revival– stardust memories.
The stars indelibly printed on obsidian reams of sky, a course in illuminated text by which we redeem the necessary canticle to cite a gilded theme.
God in the small details, the Devil in the abstract— in between, Us, the stuff stars are made from, on the cutting room floor.
She, bidden by valid tense, unhooked a claim of stars, and lighted her grief, inverting the symmetry of arc.
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.
Stars, ancient cinema illuminating a silent revival in cursive.