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EvanSPoems
Night glass full of froth, the one-arm scissor's voice, a balestra of cold idea, a zugzwang where I must speak, I must, but every word will haunt me, like the faces of vapor that rise at dawn from the lawn. The stars are dying up there, as the brute sun rises again & they fade to zero in the blue. I have such terrible flurries of thought at night, everything is crushing, but inevitably the black gives way to indigo, then a delicate purple, then to bright cobalt. Things are better under the opening sun and its tanning wing. The devil sits beside me, feeding me his melting whispers dense as biscuits full as the head of the tree. I can only banish him back to his bottle with the piano, writing songs in D minor, letting the paint listen as the hands are moving, weaving spells. Finally, order in my mind - these doubts will pass from history - evanescence. Other worries fall like rippling castles. I wake up too early but there you are. Things seem ok in the deep deep blue of morning, stars hanging dead in the sky as the carving sun toasts away the dew, and doubts fade back to zero.
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Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
Night Thoughts
Night glass full of froth, the one-arm scissor's voice, a balestra of cold idea, a zugzwang where I must speak, I must, but every word will haunt me, like the faces of vapor that rise at dawn from the lawn. The stars are dying up there, as the brute sun rises again & they fade to zero in the blue. I have such terrible flurries of thought at night, everything is crushing, but inevitably the black gives way to indigo, then a delicate purple, then to bright cobalt. Things are better under the opening sun and its tanning wing. The devil sits beside me, feeding me his melting whispers dense as biscuits full as the head of the tree. I can only banish him back to his bottle with the piano, writing songs in D minor, letting the paint listen as the hands are moving, weaving spells. Finally, order in my mind - these doubts will pass from history - evanescence. Other worries fall like rippling castles. I wake up too early but there you are. Things seem ok in the deep deep blue of morning, stars hanging dead in the sky as the carving sun toasts away the dew, and doubts fade back to zero.
EvanS
Written by
EvanS
46/M/DC
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
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