// black sparrow //

landscape

We are all midnight animals groping for a beautiful starlit chaos we can never grasp. Searching through lifetimes, little galaxies born and reborn within our tangled mouths, fingers, bodies, words, smiles, lies. In dreams we speak the anatomy of hearts roaming like wild herds of instinctual beasts across an African plain as the mist rolls in. We smell the coming darkness in the air and move forward in collective silence, listening for the shifting of the earth.

Music plays in gentle cascades of silken sound as I kneel before you on the lawn in the rain, ready, willing, hungry for the darkening storm of you. You get me so close I can taste the salt waves of a thousand oceans crashing underneath my skin, again, again, again. The way you search me like the beak of a gull prying shells to expose his prey reminds me that since childhood we have wanted to be free of the injuries of who they told us we would turn into if we turned the corner, swam away, sunk within. The flesh is soft inside, and sweet, and the more we seduce the more we unleash. You bring to radiant life my bare desire and my eternal struggle.

But after the lullabies, after the bruises, after the climax, after the desecration, after the warmth and vacancy of centuries of setting suns across a desolate planet with a name long forgotten, in our calculated madness we still crave the kind of love that is not a lush pink tongue, not a milky white pearl, not a nimble body, not a portrait, not a poem. What we want to find scrawled across the pages of the secret ancient diaries of the gods, hidden underneath broken stacks of golden beds on fire, is the secret to spreading ourselves inside a love that is unrelenting in its heat. Be slit up the core by the clutch of a thing more peculiar than death; a thing that will not let us go, a thing that cannot be held or captured or touched.

Love is not a person, people were made to let go and let go of. These human faces are masks, the haunted hunt for deliverance in painted disguise. Clever but untrue. Don’t be so easily fooled, so easily amused, so easily distracted, love, it’s unbecoming. Love is not the phantom; it’s what is beautiful about the phantom. What you really want to taste I cannot give to you, for what you truly worship is that she’s left you and she’s coming back for you and she’s trembling before you now all in the same glistening moment; not for long but forever. Love is staring back at the ghosts behind you in the mirror, speaking in wordless angelic verse. Love is your shadow dancing on these walls, and you don’t live here anymore.

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12 thoughts on “// black sparrow //

    1. Allison Marie Post author

      Dear Kris, I am so moved by your beautiful comment, thank you so much for taking the time. It really means a lot to me.

      I hope your day is warm and inspired.

      Reply
  1. Brad

    Wowza. My body aches with longing I didn’t know I had. XD Your writing is so poignant and unique. Keep on tearing your heart out Allison! :)

    Reply
    1. Allison Marie Post author

      What a beautiful comment, Brad, thank you so deeply and much. I am so grateful to know this has awakened something in you – that is the very best I hope for. Peace and love, my friend.

      Reply
  2. Roopa Khurana

    ‘Love is staring back at the ghosts behind you in the mirror, speaking in wordless angelic verse’ – very well written I must say – your writings are engaging and lovely to read.

    Reply
    1. Allison Marie Post author

      Dear Roopa,

      I am so deeply grateful to know you enjoyed this, it means so much to me. Thank you endless for taking the time to connect.

      Wishing you a most inspired evening,

      Allison

      Reply
  3. Swarn Gill

    Hello Allison! I found your blog, because you hit like on a poem I wrote, but accidentally published without a title, and had to delete and repost. I felt it would be unjust to not give appreciation for that like now that it has been vanquished into the dustbin of the internet.

    I also glad for this, because your poetry i full of such vivid imagery. Both ethereal and raw. This poem moved me very much. It has almost a sci-fi feel to it, but that seems wrong to equate it that way. Perhaps it is just that it has a quality that transcends the present and hurtles through time from the past into the unknown future, and perhaps even out of this plane of existence where at the very least we dream that love pervades all. This line:

    Be slit up the core by the clutch of a thing more peculiar than death; a thing that will not let us go, a thing that cannot be held or captured or touched.

    gave me such shivers. Not from fear, but rather your words seem come from such a depth that even if I could felt I had such depth of feeling, I don’t know that I could describe it so poetically. It is wonderful to meet you and your writing. :)

    Reply
    1. Allison Marie Post author

      Hello, hello dear Swarn,

      I am so deeply touched by the depths of your connection to this piece, it is beautiful to hear how the words transported you. It means the world to me that you would take the time to share your comment with me, thank you so much.

      Also thank you for being so kind to let me know you had to re-publish your poem, I will be sure to come back and see the title as well. “The dustbin of the internet” – isn’t it so true, this made me smile.

      Wishing you a most beautiful and inspired day, my friend. It is wonderful to meet you, too. :)

      Reply
  4. Larin

    Allison Marie, you bleed words and adorn these pages with them…… you bless us by giving us of your gift……your lucidity and vividness tinctured by dreaminess and otherworldliness transports us into another dimension…..the one which we all yearn for…the dimension in which we all become one with the all…….don’t stop bleeding for we are here to transfuse you by accepting your gift and returning it to you many times over with thankfulness and blessings …..as we return again and again to partake of your words…..may our best wishes multiply themselves back to you.

    “Love is not the phantom; it’s what is beautiful about the phantom?” Truer words have never been said.

    Reply
  5. Anonymous

    ‘We are all midnight animals groping for a beautiful starlit chaos we can never grasp’ – wow! That’s as good as it gets. I wish I’d written it ;) Beautiful writing, Allison.

    Reply
    1. Allison Marie Post author

      Ah, Ryan, that means so much to me, thank you endless. Strange little critters, we. :) I’m so thrilled this inspires you – that’s everything that matters.

      Reply

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