Each month, write a new collection.
ON ELIZABETH PASS On Elizabeth Pass Cradled by the night Lying free at last Miles from any man High upon the ridge Chasm dark below The moon indifferent And through the pine treesKeening howls like fingers
That's fantastic. I love that you've made the moon indifferent!
"Keening howls like fingers " ... a poem by itself !
The cabin opened into the black ofa five-year-old’s dreamrevealing not the familiar sunless dark, but an absence of light so completethe world had fadedto a memory only a child couldunderstand as night
I like the way the description of this one thing is sort of twisted and compacted, obscuring itself and enhancing the effect.
Yeah, I do too. I love that capturing of childhood fear and strangeness.
night dreamsso a five year oldshould go to bed atseven - fall fast asleepbut an active minda night owl bodyand I’m wide awakeI don’t mindtime for my night dreamssame as my day dreamsstories in my headin the night nobodybothers me, I canlive my stories alonefly at night
Oh that's great. It's what happens to a curious and bright insomniac.
TrustNight-blind, so I placedMy hand upon theShoulder of a friendWho walked in front andLed me up and downThose non-existent Trails, and kept me fromFalling off the earth
That's intense, and you captured it all with very few words. Well done!
love the last line
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Light ShowEveryone's asleepit's dark and silentsave, the creaking housewhile my sister snoresin the bottom bunkI'm getting readywith my palms I pressslow steady pressureagainst my closed eyesnot enough to hurtno, not quite that muchenough to see starsa private light showinside my minds eyewith colors of bluegreen, red and yellowa kaleidoscopemy rods and cones cry,this is not natural!So I set them freewith my eyes openthe grand finalea starburst of whitethen the blackness comesand I go to sleep
That's a cool poem. I love this childhood stuff! It really gets to the heart of who we are.
Psychedelic. I like it.
It was a cool nightmy stepfather cameto pick me up forthe week end leavingthe hospital whereI stayed for my healthMentally locked upvoluntarilyadmitted at agetwenty four or fiveThey were kind to meAs we drove downtownAnd I could not helpfrom feeling excitedseeing all the lightsThe reds and yellowsThe greens and the bluesflickering, shiningin the pitch darknessI said, "look at them""The lights are so bright"I was not let outof the hospitalvery frequentlywith the policy and circumstancessurrounding the timeI spent there at nightnever seeing the night life or anylights for that matterIt was as though myexperience wasexciting but then sad I only hada pass for overnight
Wow, that's a beautiful and tragic and joyful poem all at once. Send this one out immediately.
From the car's backseatI could feel the night close,I could see headlightsAnd tail lightsDarting around usDrawing yellow linesOn the freeway.I wanted to knowWhere they were goingWhere they had been,Answer my questions!All of you people!My hands desiredTo pry open the freewayLike a hand opened wideAnd trace each lifelineEtched in pale yellowOn the palm of the world.
I love the Post Modern move at the end.
This is what happens when the power goes out in Sacramento after I have just read a Sean Reynolds night poem. Lying with that bouncing around in my head for a while I realized I had a chromebook and a cell phone to tether it -- both fully charged.OBLIVIONThey found it in another of a series of endless, moonless, starless nights,In the utterness at the bottom of a cold volcano,Word spreading in coarse syllables through the huddled cavern clumps.Standing hunched together and moving by sound,Following the hollow ticking of their teethAnd the familiar rot of flaking skin,Arrays of nerves tilted up, tasting the air,They entered the asymmetric tunnel,Walls of hardened magma sculpted by ages of geologyInto glassy folds the color of amnesia,Descent brought them to the foot of a carbon fiber stairwell--Articulated and mechanizedLike the segmented spiral of a black silica shell,With no light to reflect in the mirrored material,No way for them to see their own faces in the glossy surface.Eyes white, Toothless,They followed ancient corridors down by intuition and racial memoryBeneath the paralytic crust of crippled EarthThrough chambers beneath the labyrinths of empty aquifers And between collapsed reservoirs,Crushed closed by the weight of deserts,Feeling their way to a lake long dead.Into a bed of gritty silt they grasped,Vestigial sockets carelessly directedWith no sense of orientation.Inner ears numb to vertigo were not consultedBy calcified nerve clusters, devolving brainstems.The air they breathed was breathed again.Many twitching digits contracted compulsively in contact with each other,Compelled by latent curiosity to unwrap the heavy layers:Disintegrating prehistoric sable,Pristine technological fabrics and pliant phyto-weave,All pulled back to expose a core of broken husks,Proterozoic chitin streaked a rich and oily chocolate brown,Once plunged forever in the deepWhere was no memory of light, no echo of color, no concept of sight. Anachronistic instruments peeling the fragile layers…Removed: one spherical obsidian containerWith gyroscopic qualities. It shifted to the touchOf feeble neural extremities,Turning, manipulating, with lizard cunning, disused cranial matter,Until, the code decrypted, the globe came loose,Metal segments separating with a musical pingTo reveal a kernel, a polished bead of jet.Awakeneing,They beheld it there,Whispered possibilities--Communicating forgotten hopes of re-igniting starsAnd stoking once again tectonic engines.But it droppedAnd bouncedAnd then was lostAs they tore themselves asunder in the bowels of the slowing world.
That's really powerful. I love your use of language and poetic devices through this.
My Parents, My EnemiesMommy and DaddyBecame my foes trueI felt so aloneNo full brother orA full blood sisterLong isolationDeath sentence in life5 years of age andWitnessing too much Dark, empty highwayEverything black."Don't you dare move ORLook out the window."An exact commandFrom Mommy, Dad quiet.Time passes, seatbeltStill on. I learn fear.Disobedience Versus Fear VersusCuriosity.Saw something uglyThat I shouldnt see.Their unashamed sexStaring back at me.I learned to love menMuch, much more than themI wouldnt go backAnd change it becauseMy sick benefitIs too addictingTo give up, I wontEver forfeit it.
NightThere are no stars inNew York City theSky is black becauseThe buildings are litWindows of whitenessShimmering towersEverywhere so tryTo imagine starsSeen for the first timeComing out of a Movie with parentsOn fire island — ILooked up at the skyFilled with tiny brightsScattered sparkles I Said look but theyDidn’t see so I walkedAlong but I knew Myself different IFelt things they didn’tI kept on lookingUp though all the same.