Train horn deeply awakes this evening,
this mind theaters like a picture book,
inside pictures roll slowly reeling, turn like a toy kaleidoscope.
Bare tones root tendrils deep, while an evening is
rising to the audience of stars.
There is a creamy smoothness around.
along side my moon shadow stirs,
silently and kindred is love, this dark aroma of night.
I saw pictures curve from a bend of a page,
inside frozen for a second and captured forever,
there the jaguar caught pacing inside a cage.
Three pelicans remembered by the shore
waiting for a California rain.
It is this moonlight stillness waxing shadow,
Opening a pouch, seeing contents spill from fingertips, to earth thankful that each flake glistens,
We are touched by the light of the moon.
A breath of smoke drifts always upward,
like the mirror of a rock wiggling through the shallow water finding bottom.
Somewhere between a surface reflecting.
And now a memory of the train horn
stretching like this milky moonlight,
under a dome of stars.
That star waits,floating upon a vespertine wash of sky.
Some call to her after the sun goes below the horizon.
Sometimes a memory of a loon that floats upon an evening lake,
somewhere in a child’s memory call to me.
This star awaits, a venus chiseled from dreams,
yet remains bright as a beacon passed on through generations.
This star, this orb which captures forever, light washes ashore
becoming brighter as the veil of day is pulled back in a slow motion wave.
For I know she awaits the fullness of tonight’s Moon.
Waiting to tide her with this earth, insert a lucid dream the sleep that makes us human.
This star awaits, making my soul send a plea.
This star makes me sense the pull of earthly memories and wish an escape,
a place where the windows of paradise are seen in the eyes of another,
another whom calls the moon up just by riding earth.
Sometimes a memory of a Loon,
some times a though of a cloud,
sometimes a braided brush paints an empty thought
like a white canvass upon a vespertine evening.
Are you watching the stars.
Are you under the covers warm with the light that bends around this earth.
Which touches the disk in the sky, called by many names through the earliest of eyes, which gazed then bathed their cool body under a river of a silver sliver of opalescent moon.
Taken; you lay, held wordless as this crescent grew to a fullness, then hungrily waning away, a thirst to follow a rhythm of changes.
Are you watching the stars. Forever never changes, an orb that becomes change. Consistent desired primal and true. Carnal peace a stone that fits upon the body flows .
Phosphor light filling a rhythm.
Were not for the winged iridescent curious creatures born absorbed with the celestial colour. Were this not my body that painted from a moons glow, were this not a memory, where from a wind carried thought through an evenings vesper.
Would not my piece of being fit so well into your wish so perfectly. That we would be as once, no one living today uncommonly remembers .
Light is like shadow
Night is like day
Moon glows on a dark star sky
Where the sun cast a shadow
Defining the curve of her body
Moon bathes light into this night
Light is like day , as night is the crescent moon filling
~ Light is wordless ~
Light has a stillness, a quiet never listened to. Even behind its touch upon the trees quietly, concentric ripples of rings unseen, if only someone could read these pattern of shadows. Even then the quiet goes undisturbed. May be this stillness captures the ebb, a faraway memory of a season past fresh, a different hill top, a memory similar when light spoke with a golden glint. Upon finding under a majestic piñon droplets of fragrant amber sticky with a curious bug incased.
Light is this kind stillness, warm between when touched, wordless light rides layers carried on a breeze from a far away ocean salty, meeting with a warmer breeze may be from a canyon filled with date palms, blending a cool and warm taste across your cheek.
Light touches everything, wordless because light has always been here. Shadow likes light. Night can be light when moon glows under a darker starry sky. Wordless, no time but the playfulness of light and shadow has a stillness seldom listened to.
I like the sound that quenching sings. where sound touches in a wordless world, quenching a soul breathless. I like that soundless tactile of drying sand shifting through fingers, while a sun sets quenches the sightless horizon. Like the way a wave quenches the grains of a dry beach yet again.
Quenched sands glimmer a hand of stars between fingers pause. Quenching slow rains strobe a way, where memory was found misplaced, once upon a sleeping city listens to the oceans subtle roar. And the pearl of a midnight sky pulses from lightning, a stillness beneath.
Yet between, binds earth, the chorus of aural creatures, filling quiet undulation,
quivers a nests beneath this pearl in a midnight sky.
There is this stillness before all the stars come out.
looking up high to a lapis sky at twilight,
justly a couple of shining planets that reflect the hidden sun .
This wash of sapphire across the vault of another silent evening . Caught tween memory waiting for a starry sky,
vibrating another darkness deeply .
Here stillness whispers as each star awakens from the veil of light.
It is this vespertine between, an anxious sigh of what remains slipping a long hold of day.
There was a halo round the sun.
But this is the night coming awake as the light blue becomes beauty.
a blackness of wonder flowering shards changing a timeless ceiling.
This evening will hold no moon.
Just stars and planets sending light from the hidden sun.
Here I listen to these stars.
find a thought tucked away evaporate to these awakening stars .
Your senses unraveled from human time, quenching sunrise. Far stars colouring what remains of this night. Seems this scent of yesterday, this voice of stillness, this wondering, this lucidity whetting this changing your body this between always between.
Imagining a world with one moon. A very becoming stand upon grasses moist, changes moisten your stroll, waiting evaporates within always within. Senses unravel human time. Tallish grassy field aspire, an animated spin ever slowly with breeze honing a warming of still sky. Moist fruit of dew ripens finding gravity evaporating to the last twinkling of stars.
Night pulls apart ever so slowly to sleep in a coming day. Birds voice glistened from an evening under the stars lift a dream to their pastel sky. Listen to your unraveling into another human time, listen to your heart beat, seems the night brought the voice of stillness to this place. Always under a phase of the moon, while earth awaits your memory, changing this body you release your music.
It’s dark outside and the stars are on the other side. Memory like dream prints on a wet sandy beach. Silent waves spill wet shadow pulling back into the ocean of memory. I know there are stars, galaxies shared by explorers. A haven, set an eye upon the telescope reflecting a distant memory. Light never sleeps it becomes settled in dreams illuminating with images mirrored. It is dark outside and there are stars on the other side. Dormant Crisp evening, past chorus of anima once instilled a voice to evening stars . My eye lids fall heavily into this capsule of night and breath in a cold front sailing the sky, spiraling from the top of this earth. My exhale takes my thoughts momentum of colours brushing. Light never dissipates it settles in dreams mirroring memory like stars on the other side of tonight, knowing there and galaxies like cosmic leaves riding a stream. As we are in between breaths held. There are stars on the other side. There are dreams made in the soul. Then there are nights when the blanket of night hushes the chorus, leaving self with memories .