I seem to be getting back into the swing of things, Blogging-wise, so I think I should be able to maintain regular Phriday Photo Posts again. We’ll see about putting some Phaiga together soon….it could be a minute though….
Forget the luminous.
Forget the early bird.
Forget the early, the
false dawn. These
are the cracks in the
night where the light
comes in. These are
the tossing waves and
the dreams of sleepless
I roll out of bed for the third (or is it the
fourth) time, cartoon-legged and hunched.
Corns have become hot coals
on the soles of my feet as I slept.
All the tendons in my lower legs have
apparently shrunk by one centimeter each.
I cannot fully straighten my back
until I am half-way to the bathroom.
My left eyelid wants to roll up inside out
and needs a helping hand to just open.
The last two fingers of my left hand
are numb and humming with needles as
that arm must have been the one curled under
my head, pinching a nerve in shoulder or elbow.
Such is the night at oh-dark-past-forty.
Quasi Motive moves in the night.
Grey morning creeps in
through open-eyed windows, steals
between the sheets—as
dark as the thought of
cold before it can be felt—
slips through shuttered eyes
sewn shut by colors
dreamed into them without will
and now, just there, just
above the window, grey-winged
mourners come. Perhaps,
like me, they want the world to
wake up without them.
Trying out a new form that David at Derelict Satellite invented I believe, has definitely
mastered and been kind enough to loan me....the haiku sonnet.
Incredible and inspirational work on his blog.