Micro-Landscapes of the Anthropocene

Moth Light

How, then, do I - this light? Birth me a nocturnal eye! Birth me a Seraph for a wing, and a Lepidopt for another! I tread, night after night until the sailing stars glide out of sight until one deep night, when a mighty gulf wakes and the resplendent skies swell down into infinite burn to precipitate the body electric and beckon me in its self-contained immortality. Without warning, gold-donned rushes round in vortices of "Hail! Hail!" half-nakedness, the moths pouring, swarming, circled, turning in mad logic after joy, there my light peers at me over centrifugal vacuum and melts us in its bright bright wonder. 

It was the same glow -- the same sun-see soak of air, the same feather 'fested back, the same nymphal hair of fur. Sweeps and revolves the eye-hid mind, kisses until the whole circle of cognition, and moth and fly, and finite body and all the sun-shot glimpses, past, present and to come flashes, shivers, whirls and vanishes unto-

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