Under a Lighthouse at Night.

You have no idea what we do,

Us, who come,

With every moment spent in beauty,

a moment less in the grotesque,

To, the light houses

at Dark.

Enjoying too much the sunset of My youth,

The concept and sound-imagery in shells,

I was surprised by the night,

and the company of the shipwrecked

Under this lighthouse this time.

To furl oneself into A moment,

Forever-ceasing. Forever-ceasing.

To fetch the stars,

Between wide swings of the beam

Of split light, split.

Vital announced momentous;


Of Elan’s infinite.


Dammit, at the after-image,

the lit shapes stained through, spring.

To make a way,

even slowly,

Ungracefully and bruised,

Is to come out from underneath,

the threat and the blind,

Of false light swung true.

When did we begin going

To, the light houses?

To be furled into the moments of the waves,

Under the light houses at night.