Saturday 21 December 2013
The fog came in from the ocean, covering the islands, covering the shore. Sometime later it enveloped the town, smothering the buildings with a clammy hand. The hilltop itself was clear and bright under a full white moon, hanging like a giant snowball in the sky. Stars twinkled like distant fires, sending messages between the galaxies. From above, the fog had been compressed and compacted, and was illuminated by the brightness of the moon. It stretched out across the town and over the Firth like frozen tundra. You felt as if you could step right out and walk across it. It was white and glowing and shone up into the black sky with the light of a fallen angel.
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Elizabeth, staring out at the frozen sea.
I tried to say something but couldn’t find the words. The silence was the silence of space, deep and unending, but sprinkled with life.
We stood for ages, gazing down on the fog. Eventually, Elizabeth spoke.
“I’d like to be reborn on another planet,” she said. “Can you imagine?”
“Yes,” I said, looking up into the sky at the distant stars, “I can.”It began to get really cold on the hilltop. Somewhere a horn sounded, breaking the stillness.
Sunday 8 December 2013
A truly great visual poetry magazine from Brazil, and I'm really fortunate to have a piece in it, although the title's wrong. No matter, it actually works with the poem and it's really a pleasure to be involved. Please check it out, and thanks to Fatima Queiroz. Click on the link below for a visual poetry treat.