Light of the Liminal Spectrum

An indigo sky anticipates the sun’s awakening

As more tires begin to graze on the gravel

And shifting figures form darkening shadows

That meander and morph in its creeping gaze

I am summoned from a spirit maze of dreams, blinking away the powder of purple matter

And integrating seamlessly into this skin of the embodied world

While leaving my atoms of ancestry, posterity and present as vibrating strings, connecting all the things

Yet - there is no tether

No sense of wetness to a fish wandering in the water...

From the silent abyss

an emanating song lightly combs the ear hairs

And the pupil retracts slowly in the electrifying flourish beginning to tinge the sky

of a trailing trumpet which paints the coldest corners in its abundant rays

I lick the patina glow with my meager mind to make it last

And in this ravenous gaze

The waning, dull moon seems misplaced in all of the widening space, like a faded birthmark or a half-step in the snow

Silently curving back toward the indigo

A seagull streaks a disruptive path and melts into the sky beside the moon

But there’s no half-stepping in the sky

There’s no half-stepping in the sky