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space When a whale dies in the deepest of seas her fall is the song that angels us all. No longer buoyant with air from above, her bulk is down- ballast for great depths. Falling slow—weeks, sometimes months— sharks and crabs … Continue reading ͛... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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    I’ll thank the surly male tuxedo cat for ushering me back Outside. For years Domino has showed up for food and never let me close; feral nature bullied him to bourne beyond my touch. It took five years … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space I spent years in booze’s blackest forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading U... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space All yesterday the South was beset by rain, stormy in places and just drippy in others, dark and chill everywhere. A few days ago worst-ever vortex cold and now a Gulf sheet endlessly squeezes itself out. In the I … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space Hear me and you’re witched; sort and I’ll derange; scatter and I’m found. But name me and I’m gone, into wilds you’ll never recognize as such. Nothing’s changed down all these years, though my folk have dried to vellum: … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space I spent years in booze’s black forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  The renewal’s out there in a great wide haze lingering in deep night like the world’s own shade or ours—who can say—black and void except where the streetlights delve it, or a passing car, a lingering width of fume … Continue reading &... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  Tonight, thank Heaven, Your hand is close,even heavy on my brow. Has it been that long?Like a mineshaft is History, deep and cold; all our past lives labor somewhere in it, hearingthrough the wall the voices of distant singersfrom … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space She came up from the sea of night to teach me her wet druidry. “Here is Womb,” she rasped through a larynx of gale, pointing to the sea inside her scales. “The water of birth and firstness, blue glitters … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space Hear me and you’re witched; sort and I’ll derange; scatter and I’m found. But name me and I’m gone, into wilds you’ll never recognize as such. Nothing’s changed down all these years, though my folk have dried to vellum: … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com