V.35

I fear the dark, like anyone
that grows along the surface like
moss. Dear friend, I fear I am done
writing outside of fashion

and that is life. Lichen grows in
me, letting out its frost tendrils.
I am clean and clear throughout when
I have the better understood

moments. But to reach those I need
suns and locales I am far from.
I am out beyond the long range
of the beautiful. Juxtapose

this evening, alone, and unpained,
with an evening we knew by sea
where I had pain, yes, but also
peace. I live, now, to reach that peace.

Moss, you will note, is oft unsung.
Though it arrives first, and fastens
black rock for the later aeons
who soon forget it. I lie here

reaching for soft Erato’s hair,
or the bend of her ear, to breathe
whispers and promises of things
she wants me to do for her yet

Sun Paean

Gracious sun who flies
freewheeling
without weight
being weight
and light itself

Generous sun, who
with patient defence
has mechanised us
from the infinites
with infinites
with immense patience

Great sun here is my appeal;
It is not enough that you should set
do not be so humble!
Shine all day and beyond –
erase the night so I may
awake and fall sleeping
to your light through
the thick blinds in soft covers
in living blankets
of sublime furriness

These warm nights
which feel so odd, knowing
you are close
the air rings with tension
while the bins are emptied
with rhythmic trundling

Giant sun, please!
simply ride the horizon
like a carousel
bucking up and down
on the plastic horse of the hills

Your twilight is gold
I purchase lightness with
Oh gracious sun

The Darkness Metaphor

Vessel:Morticia:Loc:Crossing-Centauri-Gulf
Ledger:Captain’s-Poetic-Communication-Allocation#23

++So you talk to me of comfort/my friend
and darkness/well I’ve this- –
if the endlessness of our darksky
were placed against them/I
would mark it as a grain of dust
hanging in a beam of sunlight
on a summerday’s comfort/
gleaming ironmetal to its rust++
+++++++++++++++++++++
They are as darkness to me/how it flies
curving out at equal speed to light
as we lie together sweating sparks of touch- –
they are my eclipse/my thunderstorm
my oceandeep gloom, my envelope++
They are the stranger standing in the room
who disappears on waking++
They are my dark/they are my gloaming ++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They are not sound/but silence/after chatter
shook violentwise the eardrum and composed
a mindset to accept the wind and void++
They are not caress/ but lack of touch
on a breathless day under unfeeling sun
when all the cares of space burn into my skin
in noise and fury++You see//
+++++++++++++++++++
You grade things wrong when you throw this out::
We measure all things, and give them measure++
It might be right to prefer the finale/and doom
To the end of the connection/holding in storm
The weatherfront of myself and them++
They are my welcome gloom++