some flowers bloom
only at night,
so it is with certain conversations,
that open in the dark,
the whole room
blessed with sweetness
Posts Tagged ‘night’
After Midnight
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged conversation, night, parenting, poem, poetry on April 2, 2019| Leave a Comment »
One Infinite Night Stand
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged night, poem, poetry, stars on March 7, 2019| 4 Comments »
All This Worry About How to Paint the Light
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged black, dark, night, painting, poem, poetry on November 2, 2018| 4 Comments »
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.
Walking Alone at Midnight
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged alone, communion, night, poem, poetry, rabbit brush on October 24, 2018| 2 Comments »
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.
One for the Lengthening Days
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged darkness, night, poem, poetry, wishing on January 1, 2018| 2 Comments »
First Thought
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged night, poem, poetry, presence on December 30, 2017| Leave a Comment »
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.
One Blessing
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged moon, night, poem, poetry on November 6, 2017| 2 Comments »
When You Are Far Away
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, night, parenting, poem, poetry on August 16, 2017| Leave a Comment »
The night is enormous—
big enough to hold us both
in a way that make us
seem close.
This is why I speak to you
through the stars—
not because I think
that they can hear,
but because I pray
you can.
Nocturne
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged language, night, poem, poetry on September 12, 2016| 1 Comment »
Even after everything is said
there is so much left unsaid.
I have measured the nights in stars
and lost track. I struggle to say
something true. When I stop
trying, I notice the how night
comes in and fills my throat.
Though no one can hear it,
it says everything I wish to say.
There is a Moment When
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communion, darkness, night, poem, poetry, self, union on January 28, 2016| 3 Comments »
the dark is less dark
and the shapes of the world
reveal again their singular shapes—
I know they don’t really lose their lines in the dark,
but I like to imagine all those newly
illumined silhouettes
have spent the night blurred, puddled
into one immense darkness,
forgetting for a while
that they have any lines
worth preserving.
It is enough to make a woman
wish that the light
would never come
if that is what it takes
to make us all remember
how arbitrary they are,
these boundaries we like
to call ourselves.
Sign up for my daily poem!
Archives
Meta
