Daylight Beyond the Sun

Daylight Beyond the Sun

D.A. Bishop

We have not decided whether daylight covers us
or if night rolls around the edges of the moon.
In a month we’ll wonder how God conceived
that darkness could show us the vastness beyond;
Light reveals truth in a single direction,
it shields everything behind the source.

Look—I see the russian sage
brushed a further blue in the moonlight,
the dirt road etched gray with tire tracks,
and the trail of a coyote as she drags her hind leg.
Dogs bay in the night.

I cannot make sense of the sky except as an engraving
of wood blackened by our sun, forcing infinite
expansion into a page of college ruled notebook paper.
I am bound to spiral into it like tarpaulin, tangled
in its cloth—the fabric of everything—and dropped
into the ocean, the closest infinite I can touch.

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D.A. Bishop
Poet & Curator

D.A. Bishop is a writer of prose, poetry, and music. His work has appeared in The Penwood Review, Little Rose Magazine, Prometheus Dreaming and on NPR’s “Songs We Love.” He publishes weekly essays on craft at writingthehighwire.substack.com, and lives in Corrales, NM with his wife and their two children.

Photography by Serkan Bayraktar