Showing posts with label P.M.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label P.M.. Show all posts

Thursday, May 21, 2015

"O Radiant Dark of Shallow Day"


Are you the Pitch
that chases me down
Intoxicating night

Are you made of Tar
a molten menace of martyr
in a Pilgrims' plight

O Holes in haloed glow
the other side of Man
Lunar eclipse

Am I now Prey
stalked in marshy fear
Fight or Flight

Am I Bound
leaden in black
Blind sighted

O Past the meridian
shrouded We rest
sleeping Tight

The insatiable appetite

Whet by Moon Shine



"The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand."-Frederick L. Knowles




The title of this poem is a fragmented quote extracted from George Elliot (a.k.a. Mary Anne Cross) "The Spanish Gypsy", 1864-1868.

Image taken by Jon Sullivan, [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Nov. 2002, "Some sort of moon like thing".

Half-dozen Mud cakes

Back to wood decks, quarter-size spiders, webs, moss  and creatures stirring in the hollow nights Back to no side-walks and skirting into th...