Categories
Creative Writing Poetry

Solace

Half the earth at a time forgets the sun doesn’t sleep,

But moon gazers and planet watchers know it hasn’t stopped

Scattering beams in every direction, expelling flares,

Hooks of flame glaring into cold nothingness.

There, there is no night – endless cycle of dark spots – it is all the same, hurtling through space,

Anchor in a whirlpool of stars.

Glancing past Mercury, Venus, it reflects off

blue and green

and smiles.

No body can boast a life like mine.

Over its coldness

A kiss

Aurora borealis

Categories
Poetry Thoughts and Entries

What is a drawing, other than the end of a line?

Draw me out, with brittle charcoal and whittled pencil

Onto whatever surface you can find.

After all, don’t I look better on paper

Than under those merciless rays that overwhelm the outdoors?

Where the external is viewed in however many angles,

And the reflected light is equal parts piercing and protective?

Here, my veins aren’t visible; you don’t see a single pimple or stray strand

Or even what the outline of my face looks like.

Here, in a line or two, the internal is traced, a strand of genotype that was never expressed.

Right, left, right, left, right, and then left again;

Though a dimension is lacking, it is almost easier to get lost.