Sundialing

Under the darkness
I wait for daylight
and it slowly drains
all energies made
over-this-night.

I find myself
empty and long
for the warm light
to wane
or die
back down
knowing this
way we live is insane
and making it not so different
from this sentence.

The years blend by lumens
and erase all traces
of anticipation
for another
night
to escape
for day to come,
for the light that never
dawned upon me...

unrisen and incapable
of my occasional
need to know
what a future holds
without hands.


Painting by 'German Master' unknown, Still Life with skull, sundial, wax jack' c. 1620 in Public Domain. 

Out of darkness grows

It feels like rain
in the bones.
It is as though
I have known
the subtle differences
of hours
from reading water lines
and by translating the stain
visibly left behind
similar to thunderheads.

Another dawn lightens over me
and after so many
thin and pointed
Winter moons have waned,
it becomes easier to reminisce
in this Time
alone and perishable.

Soon enough,
daybreaks the serene brow
into blended spectrums
dampened down seeds are sown
deeply enfolded into the crust
and the anticipation of flowers
made nothing but sense
of Beauty.



Painting by Jean-Francois Portaels(1818-1895), 'Spring' c. 1879 in Public Domain. 

Hooker

I do it better in the dark.

Think-that is.

It could be because this is when my hair is down,

I can hear my breath living for me.

Most likely, it is because it is the only time

for me when I do not see...

Feel the sky loom its clouds,

the careless way it does so often rise and shine,

too bright for my light eyes that eat too much.

I am blinded by these opportunities and unknowns

of the day.

Overwhelmed. 

I say nothing I cannot see.

Overhead, empty as moon shadows I can be,

more thoughtful.

Night gales match my mood,

and pelting rain covers my sounds

in steam

across the taunting window panes.

I dry my face 

from dreams that drench the den.

Alone in my dark head.

Please-forget all I have said.

While others claim tight-knit sleep, 

I am loose and listening to every

one thing.

I do it better at night. 


Photo by Eugène Atget [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Obfuscation

You never asked-
but I like the cool honesty
that the steel blue fractured light
throws against the walls of an empty room.

Your preference of warmth
makes me flush,
a bit hot
and rash.

As you know,
astrophysicists and amateur astronomers
use both spectrums
to learn about light
and discover new worlds
neither real blue nor red.

Me-I liked to walk in the woods in the dark
just to see or feel
my way.

I also rested in my closed
toy chest, inside the closet
with the bones and Barbie heads,
with my eyes closed tight-
yet could still see red.

You see,
I find
the absence of light briskly
more welcoming to me,
but it is just tepid white to you
I thought.

Painting By Abbott Handerson Thayer (Princeton University Art Museum) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.