- Post By: Jason Santo
- Date:
- Category: Uncategorized
- Tags: city, dark, eerie, evening, ghosts, literary_imagery, moon, moonlight, night, oldnorthchurch, poem, poetry, portsmouthnh, scary, street, writer, writing
They’re in the air, singing in whispers from a broken sleep, interrupted by moonshade and a think oil of unforgiving that courses through their bodies as if a heart still pumped, empty pistons of impulse counting cracked regrets. They pass right through you; vaporous trails of memory released from history by the random trick of agitation. Laughing halos drop, spinning at the periphery of evening. Starshine falls absent of garrulous introduction, stray Heavens’ wandering and a peek at the underside of life interrupted by shouts from eons past. Consciousness cranes for a better view of old maps, the struggle of a lilting journey and closed books unopened by fingers robbed of mass. Life in subtext now an irrepressible misery, the infinite teases overhead unattainable. #portsmouthnh #oldnorthchurch #moon #moonlight #eerie #ghosts #night #evening #scary #poem #poetry #writer #writing #dark #street #city #literary_imagery (at At the Edge of Sight)