Language is Magic

“The essence of poetry is to find strangeness in language.”

“Black as – the centre of an eye, the centre, a blackness that sucks at light. I love your vigilance Night, first mother of songs, give me the voice to sing of you in those fingers lies the bridle of the four winds. Crying out, offering words of homage to you, I am only a shell where the ocean is still sounding. But I have looked too long into human eyes. Reduce me now to ashes – Night, like a black sun.”

“Life is a place where it’s forbidden to live.”

crystals cleansed under the light of a full moon

It does! Or rather, it does come from garb. Garbage originally meant the small fabric scraps left over from tailoring–all the tiny bits that were too small to cut a pattern piece from.