Night Spirit

Night Spirit

surfing the dark drenched deeps

of paint and loneliness

a witching hour birth

conceived in canvas caves

wakes me into dreaming,

lights my blackened heart,

opens my cells,

consumes my fear,

names me,

Night Spirit.


poem and painting by clinock.

painting: acrylic on canvas. 10″ x 10″ (25.4 x 25.4 cm)

10 thoughts on “Night Spirit

    1. (you’re so perceptive Albert 😉 )…Your kind words are much appreciated Ina, thank you…in many ways you are right about how things can look at night, however it’s mostly a good and peaceful time for me to work… and strangely enough I meant this poem to reflect a positive experience but I guess that loaded word ‘loneliness’ casts its own shadow…


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