NIGHT IS A PECULIAR ANGLE
NIGHT IS A PECULIAR ANGLE
O love
Tear me from
Your angles
Bruise me in the terror of light
That thirst, before a kiss
Where a dark painting hangs like hunger
The night moves slowly
In your veins
Like marble
Lean, in the purple gowns of hiulcity
Shaken like a dove
Closed in the darkened ochre landscape
Warm are the tears of first flight
Blood on the red bird's mouth
Go wash your face
In ashes
In an age
There is no one older
Than God
Or that shadow on the wall
That escapes the cage
Of day
Alan Patrick Traynor
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Alan Patrick Traynor is a Poet from Dublin Ireland. He is the author of SEVEN DAYS OF ASHES, EDIT NOT MY SOUL & UNTIL THE BROKEN CLOUDS ANSWER that lament the world around the Irish Poet.
It has been said that his poetry is like the mystical galvanic paint that sets the fields of Provence on fire.
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