Nighthawk.

Nighthawk.

Primal ritual cries of reveille
from innumerable cricket tribes,
during the wake of nocturnal
nigrescence, beckon the
Children of Nyx from
crepuscular seclusion.
A momentary hiatus in the
mesmerizing rubbing of wings
divulges the faint slitherings
and slinkings of creepy-crawlers
and creatures of night, in
exodus from nature’s underworld.
And keeping watch over the
order of things in no man’s land
is a vigilant nighthawk,
whose stark eyes piercing
through the darkness stir
horripilation amongst the meek.



Rhythm and Tears.

The rhythmic atonalities
of steely, staccato tears
pelt graying pigmentation
almost senseless.
But the romance of flesh
frozen emotionless by
half-dried ablutions is
the poetry of endings
muting into beginnings.

(By Adam Donaldson Powell, from Collected Poems and Stories, Cyberwit.net, Copyright 2005)

Photos by Adam Donaldson Powell

Edderkoppkvinne …

EDDERKOPPKVINNE.
(My original Norwegian version.)

Du, edderkoppkvinne.
Som bestandig er iblant
de best kledde i byen,
men som aldri bruker
penger når du er ute.
Du, edderkoppkvinne.
Så sjenert at gutter
leter etter deg inntil
du fanger dem.
Du, edderkoppkvinne.
Så ensom. Så lei.
Så redd for deg selv.
Du edderkoppkvinne.
Er det rart, eller …?

MUJER ARAÑA.
(Spanish adaptation by Fernando Rodríguez)

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.
Que siempre
estás entre
las mejores vestidas
de la ciudad,
pero que nunca
gasta un peso
cuando sales
de noche.

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.
Tan timida
que los chicos
te buscan
hasta que tú
los atrapas.

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.
Tan sola.
Tan triste.
Tan temerosa
de ti misma.

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.

Es raro o qué?