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Blog entries by Darkkin

East of Monday It was too early a cucumber Sunday when we talked a cardinal listening in And it was time... I called too early a watercolour Monday and we had no need for words... because your Pelican Flight they had come...those damn White Pelicans duty bound But you were ready, so ready to soar free with them to find the light breaking east Now that day is a Thursday dense magnolia weather and your peony has bloomed perfect sunrise pink facing east And still I watch-- for the White...
Where the Brook and the River Meet: The First Journey of Violet Bright There is a place far beyond the front door, just past a weathered gate, where Twilight dwells and whispered dreams patiently wait. At the edge of a bluff, near deep throated roar of the sea, there is a pathway, a door, where no ordinary door could be. The place where the brook and the river meet, at a fork beside a stone, beneath a great Alder tree, he, a keeper of all things known. Yet this Alder, for all his...
By the Light of Lost Stars Climb fast, quiet as a moon shadow at the rise of the Bleak Tide toes mutter secrets to the jagged stone stairs that go too high. And at the topmost plinth, sits a fox, mourning as his stars died. Deepest tints of the soul’s despair bleed into his pilled sock hide, ears drooped with the weight of the weary, as sleep comes nigh— Climb fast, poke a hole in the sky, mold it, find the Firefly Tide. Socks fox bereft. His stars, those stories, nonsense voices chide...
Star Socks Fox He began as a pair of socks, cobalt with gold stars, this fox. He was worn and washed, washed until he was well worn. Then one day, a hand sorted him into the feared donate box. From his home, his drawer, safe and warm, he was torn. Into a pile, a jumbled mess he was dumped, lumped—lost. Parted from the mismatched Banana Stripe and Troll with Hole. Into a bin of all colours and sorts, the Star Socks were tossed, and he watched as Troll with Hole became the prize a rat stole...
Place at the End of the Stars There is a place where stars made a final stand here soft light lingers along the shadows’ verge, Dark at the End of the Stars, the long lost land. Mortal measurements here are void, time kept by Turtles in storied round, lightning cast sand, and the Karakul ewe lamb at the Gibbous step. Stones rattle, chatter with the fresh tidal surge, limned waters, cobalt and sea taken gold, rise about the feet of a Rex from the Meteor Purge. It is a monster recalled...
Waterfall of the Fireflies All seas have a source, dew drop to fierce tide— So it is to the start of the Firefly tide, she goes, Small Violet Bright, upon the Harbinger rides. Jagged scars of fossilled stone, sundered land cedes to the cold blood of the riptide’s thrall, a place of start and end, and here she stands— Astride the cursed beast, his face as scarred as those limestone cliffs riddled with bones, the uncatchable unicorn so horribly marred. Fingers of wind, tangle in mane and...
Call the Name of the Harbinger Starbright blaze dances as it consumes acre upon acre of weathered woodland skies smeared by smoke, sulfur spume. Above it all, he lords in turreted heights, captive bound in the zephyr born maps of the cumulonimbus crowned in white. Harbinger, once cloven and bihorned— he of darkest sin and covetous heart, whose freedom came with bones torn. His prison an ageless evergreen tree whose, pith, pitch, and pulp bound a beast by his horns, unable to flee…...
Rueful Tyrannosaurus. Just a boy, an Ichabod sort with feet too big and a nose too short. Long legged and gangling he resembled a crane, one half grown with strawberry hair and bright amber eyes rich as the best port. Those eye how they gleamed, watched Phi's queer plan take shape, she was in need of some help if this plan had the chance to prevail. Phi required someone who wielded wonders, a Great Towel Cape! Young Hero Campbell was just such a requisite—enterprising fellow. With a...
Star Socks Fox on the Line Sun bright sheets billow, guises of battle standards, sails, and wings— among them, upon ripples of grass lay a book, open to page sixty-four, Where the Sidewalk Ends, the name of a place at the end of all things. Between the snap and bite of white, a fox from Alder Tree’s shore, strung up, pinned ear to ear, bounced and jounced, high on the line. And below, she sat, held the book that lay open to page sixty-four. Phi, irrational exception to rationale, a child...
Breach in the Nimbostratus Breakers The surface was perfect, no ripple to disturb or mar but beneath the unbreakable barrier it now appeared, knobbled and gnarled, enrobed in old barnacle scars One of the last and greatest beasts of old mariner lore, breached the nimbostratus breakers that billowed there beneath that curiously small interdimensional trapdoor. Like Alice’s sneak peek through the keyhole, two eyes saw there was more than meets the eye, she truly knew the barrier, the...
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