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Posts Tagged ‘night’

 

 

Is not like midnight in Colorado.

It’s dark, of course, same stars.

But the air here has a weight

that holds me—as if it’s been having

a long conversation with me

since before I arrived, as if it knows me.

I have come with my arms too full.

The night asks me to set down

whatever I have brought,

to hold it the way it holds me.

I breathe into the night

only to find it is breathing me.

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Shining

 

inspired by Erik Satie, Gnossienne 1

 

 

let me speak only in starlight

and let me wear only song

teach me to love in a minor key

and let the night

be long

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I ask the night

teach me to ask bigger questions

it replies

perhaps you could

take the pen away

from the one who wants

to ask questions

and then let her come

walk in the night

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some flowers bloom

only at night,

 

so it is with certain conversations,

that open in the dark,

 

the whole room

blessed with sweetness

 

 

 

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One Infinite Night Stand

 

 

the night unzips

its long black dress—

a million stars slip out

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in part a response to Ferlinghetti’s “Instructions to Painters and Poets”

 

 

Teach me to paint the dark, the infinite

shades of the infinite dark, the basis of all

the light that is, the origin, the ink bright spark

 

that leaps from the great black well,

the darkling spring, the raven luck, the mother

from which the big bang sprang, the womb

 

of dawn, the only cloak measureless enough

to hold everything, everything in its folds.

Teach me to paint the inner midnight,

 

the moonless rooms, the lavish corners,

the mighty dark inside the fist, the vastness

of limitless space that links

 

with no effort the everything that is,

the everything that ever was, the everything

that will ever be. Teach me the song of soil,

 

the song of deep winter, the pure dark song

of the sea. All the dark that’s been terrorized

by light, and all the dark that’s been pushed away

 

and all the dark that’s been feared,

teach me its valor, its ferocity, its kindness,

its gentleness, its blinding generosity.

 

 

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The moon was hidden and the scent

of rabbit brush was thick, so thick

a woman could be hypnotized by it—

 

it seemed to come from everywhere,

the garbled light, the sage-sharp scent,

the sound of every step she took, and

 

every step she took felt like

a baptism, though into what, she could

not say—herself, perhaps, but more

 

the world, and yes, it was

the kind of tenderness

one only meets when we’re

 

alone and somehow lost

inside the night, amazed that it

can be so warm, so gentle,

 

shocked that we can be so slight

we almost, almost disappear—

but ah, the sound of every step she took

 

reminded her that she was here—

and sage-sharp scent of rabbit brush

caressed her every everywhere,

 

and led her deeper into night,

soft sound of footsteps, garbled light,

the snarl of squirrel nests in the trees

 

made visible through silhouette,

and every every step she took felt

like a baptism, like a rite

 

though rite of what, she could not say,

the moonlight gave itself away

the rabbit brush said here, here, here.

 

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night, don’t end so soon—

so many stars

yet to wish on

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First Thought

 

 

 

Not thinking tonight

of what I could have done

or what I could have said.

Instead, night wraps

around me like a shawl

and holds me close

and says, Yes,

you are here, just here.

 

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One Blessing

 

 

 

open window—

in tiptoes the moon

to kiss me goodnight

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