Midnight

April 4, 2020

There’s no lock on the door
since the Midnight Men came,
with their pale, grinning faces
their tire-track eyes,
and the sound of the shadows
seems louder somehow,
on the street that runs empty
past Emily’s house.
She still plays there sometimes
on the grey concrete stoop,
with the screen door wide open
to welcome the rays
that spread out from the dish
on the middle school roof –
education for all’s what
the Midnight Men say.
And the grown ups all smile
as they murmur along
with the lessons they learn
in the new, better way,
while they work at new jobs
that the Midnight Men brought
till their finger bones show
white on red, like their teeth.
It’s much safer these days —
no one worries at all
about vandals or thievery —
those things are done,
and if every gaze shies from
the old Northgate Mall
no one says much about it
or questions the smell.
But young Emily wishes
her life would change back
to the way that it was
before fog drifted down
from the cracks in the sky
where tomorrow peeked through,
before Midnight came early
and never moved on.

Marcie Lynn Tentchoff

Dunne looked gloomily out upon the sea. “So damned lonely…as lonely as death itself. Would she have come up here in the middle of the night to jump off into the roaring black surf? I don’t think she would have. Not at midnight. There’s something about midnight, something gruesome.”

D. B. Olsen
Something about Midnight

DAYDREAMS FOR GINSBERG

December 8, 2018

I lie on my back at midnight
hearing the marvellous strange chime
of the clocks, and know it’s mid-
night and in that instant the whole
world swims into sight for me
in the form of beautiful swarm-
ing m u t t a worlds-
everything is happening, shining
Buhudda-lands, bhuti
blazing in faith, I know I’m
forever right & all’s I got to
do (as I hear the ordinary
extant voices of ladies talking
in some kitchen at midnight
oilcloth cups of cocoa
cardore to mump the
rinnegain in his
darlin drain-) i will write
it, all the talk of the world
everywhere in this morning, leav-
ing open parentheses sections
for my own accompanying inner
thoughts-with roars of me
all brain-all world
roaring-vibrating-I put
it down, swiftly, 1,000 words
(of pages) compressed into one second
of time-I’ll be long
robed & long gold haired in
the famous Greek afternoon
of some Greek City
Fame Immortal & they’ll
have to find me where they find
the t h n u p f t of my
shroud bags flying
flag yagging Lucien
Midnight back in their
mouths – Gore Vidal’ll
be amazed, annoyed –
my words’ll be writ in gold
& preserved in libraries like
Finnegans Wake & Visions of Neal

Jack Kerouac

…history suggests that the human spirit wanders farthest in the silent hours between midnight and dawn. Those dark fruitful hours, seldom recorded, whose secret flowerings breed peace and war, loves and hates, the crowning or uncrowning of heads.

Joan Lindsay
Picnic at Hanging Rock

tastes like fairy tales

October 28, 2018

She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.

Laini Taylor
Daughter of Smoke & Bone

listen to the wind…

October 30, 2016

gentle-november-frederick-ardley

It is believed that if you listen to the wind at a crossroads on Samhain just before midnight, you’ll hear all you need to know for the year ahead.

Spend time outdoors on Halloween Eve, listening to the wind in the trees, the sound of the sea, water running over stones or bird song. Heed the words you may hear in the leaves or wind or your mind.

around midnight

December 29, 2014

Walkinginrain

fag-end firefly sparks
afterlight / afterdark
arcwelds fragile
bridging which gap
breathe in her frail skin
exact weight of
cigarette papers
before the inhalation
– another fallen blue star