June 29, 2020

Silence known by the light tap
Of rain, of after-rain
Shedding from leaves.
Night known by the star outside,
And dark clouds rimmed
By the less-dark sky.
The day known
By its uncoiling down through cells,
Slowly, into silence and night.
Body known by the press of cover
On limb, of limb on sheet,
On bed, on soil and rock and Earth.
None of it to last, not silence
Or night, or cloud or star,
Or day or body or planet;
Silence a ring I have made
Against cars and planes;
Night a contrivance
Against surrounding light.

Alix Greenwood


June 5, 2020

Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day take on a new and deeper meaning.

Elie Wiesel

reckless with love

April 28, 2020

My night is reckless with love. It exhausts me. My night is long and long and long…


April 15, 2020

A dark night — the streets belong to the cats. The cats and whatever small thing they find to kill — the cats are fast like their ancestors in the hills and hungry like their ancestors.

Louise Glück


April 13, 2020

sometimes the night wakes in the
middle of me.
and I can do nothing
become the moon.

Nayyirah Waheed

Those who refuse to listen to dragons are probably doomed to spend their lives acting out the nightmares of politicians. We like to think we live in daylight, but half the world is always dark; and fantasy, like poetry, speaks the language of the night.

Ursula K Le Guin
Fantasy, like poetry, speaks the language of the night
San Francisco Sunday Examiner and Chronicle 21st November 1976

The witching hour, somebody had once whispered to her, was a special moment in the middle of the night when every child and every grown-up was in a deep deep sleep, and all the dark things came out from hiding and had the world all to themselves.

Roald Dahl

At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern & left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations & capabilities impossible to any less magical & quiet hour.

H.P. Lovecraft
letter to Lillian D. Clark, 1st September 1924

hold off Death

March 4, 2020

Out of the dark we came, into the dark we go. Like a storm-driven bird at night we fly out of the Nowhere; for a moment our wings are seen in the light of the fire, and, lo! we are gone again into the Nowhere. Life is nothing. Life is all. It is the Hand with which we hold off Death. It is the glow-worm that shines in the night-time and is black in the morning; it is the white breath of the oxen in winter; it is the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself at sunset.

H. Rider Haggard

King Solomon’s Mines

Why does one feel so different at night? Why is it so exciting to be awake when everybody else is asleep? Late—it is very late! And yet every moment you feel more and more wakeful, as though you were slowly, almost with every breath, waking up into a new, wonderful, far more thrilling and exciting world than the daylight one. And what is this queer sensation that you’re a conspirator? Lightly, stealthily you move about your room. You take something off the dressing-table and put it down again without a sound. And everything, even the bedpost, knows you, responds, shares your secret…

You’re not very fond of your room by day. You never think about it. You’re in and out, the door opens and slams, the cupboard creaks. You sit down on the side of your bed, change your shoes and dash out again. A dive down to the glass, two pins in your hair, powder your nose and off again. But now – it’s suddenly dear to you. It’s a darling little funny room. It’s yours. Oh, what a joy it is to own things! Mine – my own!

Katherine Mansfield
At the Bay