Be it most feared
Feel not its chill.
Verging on whose danger's pull
Of mute unknowns is but full
Pleasure-walk still.
Though not so led
Could not let go
Me, when naughty looked, unfound
That cloaked support, felt around
Trace still. Hallow!
Whom, no fence, creek
Had yet confined
This, Time's gorge which so impedes
Down into which light recedes
Leap with like mind.
Another nightly ascent up the stairs towards my solitary bedroom.
Slightly tainted with opiate night perfumes, glistening green totems await;
O souls beyond the time before time was time,
Is there a bright future ahead?
Only the note of B flat spills out of nocturnal batrachian depths.
Strange birds are howling and the black river is almost comatose across the road.
There is a mauve, antediluvian horror clinging to my window pane.
Green tree frogs, watch my sleep as I turn into a star;
I rest in the abode of Orion and my body melts into sweet smelling lilies,
Keep your sorceries around me like green jade amulets,
Trace your rainwater sigils around my bed,
Leap into my dreams and teach me your purple magics.
O pleasures of the nightside borderland,
O silly little green things.
My village around the borderland, estranged
Mountain from the other side, rejoiced within gray shaded area to bloom
Echoed the echo of the midnight hymn, darkened a shade, deeper fill in xanthosis, lasted beyond the yonder valley o'er the meadow, fall color blossomed then.
Echoed a sound lasted, I heard, an echoed a sound lasted
Eavesdrop and a try , as I meant for that
Beyond the sensible perception, to understand
Opening the eyes, I try to see
A failure to gaze to perceive a gaze
Closing my eyes , I am a fanciful thought
O intellect , I failed to perceive that
I am a failure to a thousand mountaineer causes , caused
A failure to climb those events larger than a life, presented
Echoed the echo of the midnight hymn, darkened a shade, deeper fill in xanthosis, lasted beyond the yonder valley o'er the meadow, fall color blossomed then.
Echoed a sound lasted, I heard, an echoed a sound lasted.
Based on a song from subcontinental vibe
Harpsichord in heaven?
Cubic or spherical?
Bread, O baker? Leaven.
Just flicker as you fall...
Dancing lights apace in space?
Watch them in her face.
Ghost, vanish without a trace!
Gold, case, carapace!
Desert floor in winter?
No more than one inch, snow.
Shredder, got a splinter?
Tormented, O my foe.
Panels, dance about the night!
Sparks in porcelain!
Falcon, gather wind in flight!
How we'll meet again...
Yellow eyed priest, bid the feast!
Shepherd, are ye fleeced?
Squire, page, are the wheels a-greased?
Only if they're pieced.
Connect, O my fibers!
Build high the city walls!
If they're born to jibe, sirs;
They're bound for taking falls.
Tyrant of the borderland?
Show them how we stand!
Crush them in thy hardest hand!
Order countermand!
Silence in the place of whole?
Remotely control.
Ye gods, what is mortal soul?
Golden light a-bowl.
come, aaro, to where
mist (hangs) between
ancient
t
r
e
e
s
& light filters through
verdant
canopies
i will show you the
borderland (between light
& shadow) where silence
grows
w
i
l
d
in these
quiet
places
we learn to
h
e
a
r
our true names
called by the
e
a
r
t
h
the forest
remembers (what we
have forgotten)
how to breathe, how to
l
i
s
t
e
n
& how to be
unafraid of the
d
a
r
k
aaro, i will bring you
to these sacred
spaces
so your roots may
g
r
o
w
deep
so you may
learn (early) what took
years to discover:
we are not
s
e
p
a
r
a
t
e
from this wild beauty,
we are
born
of
it
deep in the trenches
a forest of cardboard trees
and stained glass windows
twiddling pieces through fingers
sizing up like private eye
a piece here…and there
like a long drawn out story
finally middle latched shut
and made the sign of the cross
now I aim for the quadrants
Out here in the outpost
I guard the borderland
“Over and out” – I lose the call
And you are out again
This is my shout out
From the hinterland
“Roger, Roger” at my post
But you are – out – again
You do not deem to call
While my receiver’s on
I fiddle with the dial
But – static – is the tongue
Cold the rime upon the pane
That crackles to the sound
Of Solitaire I muster out
– And the hand that I put down
Is a winner, at its best
– It seems the Ace is high –
– And here my friendly guest
Just winks an evil eye –
The creaking of my little hut
Is charged with energy
Buffeted by winds about
– thou art mine enemy! –
Cold the outer fathoms
And in the frozen stasis
White is in the noise
And silence in the spaces
The dark outside is deep
Did I just hear a knock?
– it’s just the knock, knock
Knocking of my beating heart
– Cornered as a winter mouse
Frightened from its nest
I startle to the voice I hear
And flee my inner guest
They come close to my backyard.
This is their frontier,
a borderland one windowpane thick.
Inside my room, my weakly ticking brain
like a deflated blimp, is wedged
between one ear and the wild beyond.
Sound carries visions at night, details shine.
It’s like you can see, only it’s their
eyes projecting on yours.
When alien cultures meet in the in-between,
they camp at a distance from each other.
They sing, do their daily dance,
they do it close enough for all to see.
The deathless humor of survival
is a ritual.
The hoot owls said all this to the dark,
while my ears scanned an inner wilderness
squeaking like wagon wheels.
They come close to my backyard.
This is their frontier,
a borderland one windowpane thick.
Inside my room, my soul
like a deflated blimp, is wedged
between one ear and the wild beyond.
Sound carries visions at night, details shine.
It’s like you can see, only it’s their
eyes projecting on yours.
When alien cultures meet in the in-between,
they camp at a distance from each other.
They sing, do their daily dance,
they do it close enough for all to see.
The deathless humor of survival
is a ritual.
The little owls said all this to the dark,
and my ears flew about the bedroom
squeaking like pinging wagon wheels.
Borderland of friendly people,
new land vast to cross,
inviting with its beauty -
enticing.
Visited by Pilgrims -
persecuted men
of new religions
in their countries of origin.
They bonded with indigenous people,
who helped them to survive
and to cross frontier
between two oceans.
She flickers in the borderland
In the mirror and the marsh
Sparkling like the morning dew
On a grateful corpse
In the bog her murmuring
The echo of a cry
Travels on the plaintive wind
Like a phantom sigh
The merest of a semblance
Shadowed by the moon
In the murk appears to flirt
Behind the sinking dunes
Like an orphan of the sea
Or a widow of the sands
She shrivels in the noon day sun
Glimmering in strands
Written by © Raven Drake
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