Every last star ghosts its own holy rapture– we, a part of, bask. Advertisements
We are not here to tiptoe through the garden at night. We balance on the edge of a slow-whirling blade, a smooth silver plane with teeth, belonging to a star, unnamed, its heart a fiery proof and fade of joy … Continue reading
Every cradle begs of its dark a stairway to star grief and love.
In a starless sky, night hastens to remind us– Ghosts pass softly, fade.
It is impossible to live up to the lyrical, its angelmarked bendings of antenna, and sonic proofs, to nestle in the hollows of pitch, half-bird, half-wraith, attempting the almighty bait and switch, to con the heavens into granting you a … Continue reading
Sometimes, even the light, in its radiant parry and thrust, needs to be laid down, in order to receive, openly, the starried lull of brokenness.
She, baring teeth lodged in the jaws of dreamlife, grazes on symmetry and swaths of fire, this diet, recommended in due measures for dreamers only, trades in the manna of satisfaction for whole-bellied hunger, a voracious reckon and spiritual art … Continue reading
On the night God went topless, and the nephilim performed a burlesque of Carmen, or perhaps it was the Wizard of Oz, the girl with the frosted tulips in her hair, and love song in her head, turned off the … Continue reading
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.
Between blades and pines, she lay still, spreading forest to stars that filled her.
