Scratchboarded stars of liquid light pouring in like rain
beneath the cupola of heaven one sentinel of night
A solitary figure stilled by the mutany of a willful hoot
his head is bowed as he listens, pressed to the dark
A Universal ensemble of nightly vocation, owlish wise
he knows not to disturb the hour, as he turns right on time
Earthly vibrations of the lowest kind everyone is sleeping
but not everyone is blind, head bowed he listens to ...
Insiped in velvet with browny eyes of amber flame n' light
beneath the humdrum moments of nocturnal sweep,
the owl breathes, where no man has yet trespassed
the owl heeds, through ebons of nocturnality-delights
Scratchboarded stars of liquid light pouring in like rain,
beneath the cupola of heaven the Sentinal, of night.
Written by: Mystic Rose 5/18/2019
Scratchboard Painting Photography
By: Nathan Cole . [email protected]
Grounding teeth against the wollywork
Memorization doesn't appetite and clause
Matching petulant crashing opposed
Language and its neighbor
Avenue of bark
Credible crock croaking a broken moat
Butcher a goat
Drowning why like castling a brook
Finalizing a product
Like escaping a hurricane queen
Dragging ten mutinies of throat
Trusting in a scratchboard to mimic an answer
What we don't know
That can television a torch
And repel rocket cocktails
Between the legs of market and street
To scream through a screen
And disrupt sunbelt of orange glo
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