Before Saturday dazzles us with its brilliant sky, let’s take a look back at the lights of Friday night and how they shone through us… As always, a massive thank you to Cindy and Ashley for their creative energy. If you have never visited their individual blogs, then start clicking. Cindy is currently posting a selection of photos from her Friday night shoots and Ashley is working her way through the alphabet, riffing on each letter to fuel a poem.
Friday, February 3
We will drive to Santa Fe
as soon as it stops raining.
The problem with rain is that
it has no time table, no trouble
night driving. It takes those
two white lines and opens
the road wide as a clam
shell where even shadows are
bright where the water comes down
like a knife with light on its blade.
When a bird cries for its mate
it can be consoled by its reflection.
Tonight the curtains are drawn
the orchestra of mosquitoes, grating
in my ears.
I eat translucent noodles alone;
keep a glass of clear water
beside the bed.
My face is a troublesome
ghost, arriving like a Hunter’s
Moon in an absent sky. A terrifying
creature now that you are
no longer behind everything.