The Night: (Different incarnation, this time)

Tonight, standing in front of full ocean
brunt underneath hazy sparkle of dims,
the sky,

finally

in her dark, muted whisper, revealed a best kept secret to ever listening, half deaf ear.

Her voice, filtered through tiny pinholes
that only stars have managed, over light years, to

punch

into the night’s immutable black, shook me, and then,

I was silent.

Consumed.

The vacuity and enormity of this,
this…numinous.

I let go of the red leash.

Lights flashed behind old grey brain
threatening to send death’s charges through the wrong vain.

I dropped.

To one knee.

Behold: Seraphim, Nephilim
said unto me with voices furious, intertwined:

PATER noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.
Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo
et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,
et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus
debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem,
sed libera nos a malo.

Amen.

And All gravity fled. I stretched
Reaching upward, to cling to red leash,

But, lo, Barkley had drifted off:
happy in the heavens. The stars now
behind him, he continued to rise. He was
without fear smacking his lips in the face
of all eternity.
I called.

I called. I called, I called.
In vain. Only the Ocean offered a reply:
her sweet brine met my face and, once again,

I fell silent.

At home now I consider this
empty dish.

I almost filled it upon arriving home
and then, I remembered.
His toys.

Litter

the floor. Even his most beloved
purple squirrel now abandoned
with only tooth mark,
for memory.

I will miss frantic sound
of claws on hardwood. I will,
miss the way he snores,
the way he kicks his paws
at dream,
vision.

I will miss all this, but know,
beyond a doubt, that paradise
is his.

At last.

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3 Responses to The Night: (Different incarnation, this time)

  1. gregbrown says:

    I did enjoy the poem and while the formating kept me on the edge reading, it did strain the eyes a little. So was this a “found poem”

  2. I agree, I think you need to re-consider how line breaks function in poems. And If you’re making this selection into a poem, I think it needs some editing. I’m not sure if you have written any other poetry..I’ll look around. By the way, I love your use of language.

  3. Tonight, standing in front of full ocean
    brunt(not sure about this wording), underneath hazy sparkle of dims,
    the sky finally in her dark muted whisper
    revealed a best kept secret to ever listening,
    though half deaf
    ear.

    Her voice filtered through tiny pinholes
    that only stars have managed, over the course
    of light years, to punch into the nights
    immutable darkness shook me, and then,
    I was silent.
    Consumed.

    The vacuity and enormity of this,
    this…numinous. I let go of the red leash.
    Lights flashed behind old grey brain
    threatening to send death charges through
    the wrong vain.
    I dropped.

    To one knee. Behold: Seraphim, (take out and) Nephilim
    said unto me with voices furious (take out and) intertwined:

    PATER noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.
    Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo
    et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,
    et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus
    debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem,
    sed libera nos a malo.

    Amen. And All gravity fled. I stretched
    Reaching upward, to cling to red leash,

    but, lo, Barkley had by then drifted off:
    happy in the heavens. The stars now
    behind him, he continued to rise. He was
    without fear smacking his lips in the face
    of all eternity.
    I called.

    I called. I called, I called. (repeat again)
    In vain. Only the Ocean offered a reply:
    her sweet brine met my face and, once again,
    I fell silent. At home now I consider
    this
    empty dish.

    I almost filled it upon arriving home
    and then, I remembered. His toys.
    Litter. The floor. Even his most beloved small apartment.(unnecessary)
    purple Squirrel (why capitalized?) now abandoned
    with only tooth mark,
    for memory.

    And(take out) I will miss frantic sound
    of claws on hardwood. I will,
    miss the way he snores, (take out and)
    the way he kicks his paws
    at dream,
    vision.

    I will miss all this, but know,
    beyond a doubt, that paradise
    is his.
    At last.


    Many times the word”and” is unnecessary in poetry/ reads better without. These are merely suggestions.

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