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Visible Darkness
04:40
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A thunderhead churns in slow-motion, its high clouds billow white against a darkening blue expanse. Bats chirp a chorus under a bayou bridge and a falcon circles a slow descent. Thousands of grackles gather on powerlines to watch the end of day: the last rays of sun move across the city as it rises from the desert plain.
Her abdomen hovers above the sparkle of twisted skyscrapers and her thin, long legs easily navigate between metallic buildings: one furry claw here on the pavement (barely missing a sidewalk crack), and one claw there, next to a man asleep on a bench (he doesn’t wake).
Now, beyond the buildings, she rests at the edge of a concrete-lined waterway. Between her two front legs she holds the remnants of a shattered porcelain bowl. Its glaze is a galaxy swirl of greens and blues – tiny bird silhouettes lift from its fractured surface and merge into the surrounding darkness.
She gathers the shards and makes her way to a deserted avenue. She ascends a slick glass tower. A shimmer of silk spools out from her spinnerets and wafts high on the breeze, sticking to the steel building across the street. One glimmering thread at a time, she crafts a magnificent web. At last, she settles in its centre and starts to work on the shattered bowl: with silk and gold, she adheres each broken piece to its match, and makes what was once broken, whole.
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I open the front door and little gold beetles fly to the porch light
Pale yellow buds fold into sleep
An egret alights on a cement fence:
— he stalks moths among winter blossoms
An almost-full moon illuminates the forest
Conifers hold their wind-blown shapes
And the smooth gray frameworks of gnarled shore pines twist skyward
Ice crystals encrust blades of marsh grasses
Sending up tiny frozen spikes of multi-colored moss
I warm unfurling tendrils with whispers and songs and rhymes
I brush past fern fiddleheads and the icy white skeletons of bishop’s lace
…tiny spiders weave webs from starlight
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Capricious moon peeks through a window, descends a staircase of clouds, fills the room radiant poison…Beauty gathers iteself out of darkness. Her black hair streams out... ‘You will love what I love and what loves me: men who have green eyes, whose throats know my nocturnal caresses…clouds, silence, and the night; the sea immense and green; the multiform waters; the sinister flowers that resemble censors of an unknown religion…” Among the petals of night flowers, monsters sleep…
— Inspired by Charles Baudelaire’s poem, ‘The Blessings of the Moon’ (1869). Translated by Misha.
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Misha Penton Houston, Texas
Misha Penton is a singer, composer, and filmmaker. Her music is a blend of futuristic art song, sound poetry, and chamber electronica—you will hear the rise and fall of her many layered voices, and the swirling guitars and electronic sound worlds created her Misha and her collaborators. ... more
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