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I haven't had much inspiration lately. I'm not sure if it's the island or of it's just from being busy or otherwise preoccupied but, nonetheless, I haven't written much of anything.

This is the first draft of anything in months.



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This Tuesday,
on Nantucket island,
the sky is as clear as I've ever seen it.
Each star is bright enough to light up a tiny piece of my world,
and I see it all.
It goes on forever,
as far out as ever was or ever could be there is quiet and darkness.
It's peaceful.
It's almost as if, if I close my eyes for long enough,
I might be found laying belly up to the endless ocean of giggling lights
and back against the creaky old beams of ship.
All sea and stars.
Yes, if I close my eyes for long enough,
I feel the sky I see.
But there is this other twinkle, too.
This crackling that isn't the boards beneath my back at sea,
or the waves crashing against the horizon.
It's something more like the whispering pop of a tired kerosene lamp deep in your chest.
And even though you are hills and valleys, oceans and mountains away from me,
I can hear it.
there is this glow about the night, like the glow in your gaze, that warms me.
The waves beat the sand and the foams makes a shhhhhhhh,
like your breath against the crest of my neck as we sleep.
I am haunted in this darkness of as far as ever was or ever could be,
because you are not in it.
It's a shame to miss you so much because the stars are so beautiful.