stretching on eternally,
encasing us in glass,
(more) needle points and flames flickering up
in the sky, cosmos
breathing across the night until
there was no blue or navy,
only shimmering fires and sparking
waters blanketing the air above us
glowing around the white hole of the moon(less)
The bastard angel was banned from heaven. Hers was a long a tragic tale of lies and loss, and she told it to the wind on lonely afternoons, the sunbeams cold on her back, the powdered white clouds below billowing up and sinking down like so many snowflakes.
Below her was the heathen earth, where the air smelled funny and the people were small and quarrelsome. Above her was the forbidden land, where bejeweled birds ate candied fruit from the upturned palms of glorious creatures. The bastard angel lived in the in-between land, the perfect purgatory of silent cloud and lonely sky.
At night she nested on a high perch of cloud and watched for the gateway to appear, a burning circle of stars in the endless sky. She watched the angels with flaming swords as they circled the gate, guarding it, their holy fury brighter than the thousands of stars around them. The white-gold stars stared down coldly at the bastard angel, judging her for her crimes, and when she cried the tears fell down to the pagan earth and filled the cups of beggars.(less)