Even Without Angels

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This an exceedingly bright stuff

Of early sun, like mornings swallowed

Before or after the conception, of darkness

 

A Panorama of what I once

Thought was long-dead

And look, it’s standing right here

 

A blinding element on the winter air

Hooves of the gleaming I-don’t-know-whats

There are no night-crickets in this chill

 

Only the speed of themes rising

Like liquid blankets from

My subconscious, fueled by whom?

 

This is the pillar of my new dawns

The celestial death of yesterday

Hangs in a tum-ti-tum

 

Of today’s look in the mirror

Merely delight, as if the earth could

Tolerate another blinding day of

 

My well exercised ignorance

The bay of heaven, the glittering

The seraphim in their accomplished flashes

Of swiftly modulating alien-frequencies.

 

Reviews

[Seshat Nidaba]

I don't totally understand this, but I found it pretty.