As Dusk Falls

As Dusk Falls The sliver of a new moon simmers, iridescent, against deepening blue, delicate as a brushstroke. [image: Waning Crescent Moon | Miguel Claro] — Keep up with Tai Woodville’s many creative pursuits,  including a conceptual electronic album, musical appearances, poetry readings and more.

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Invisible Ink

Invisible Ink When the flame of presence is lit   the truth emerges,   like invisible ink on a page that before appeared blank.   [image: from Bodyscapes | John Poppleton]  

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The Grays

The Grays The grays are worse than the blues… At least you can write a song about the rich cobalt-feeling of sadness. The grays settle like a cloak of smoke, leaving you voiceless and dry-eyed, with nothing so satisfying as a good cry. The grays have nothing to give, not even tears. Wraith-like, they confuse […]

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Winter Woods

Winter Woods White mist drifts through rain-wet pines. Walking through the forest feels like a waking dream. Rubber soles against dark earth, plastered with shed leaves. Looking up, the sky is no-color. A counsel of cedars surrounds me. The further the trees, the more suffused in mist, until the world becomes a sea of clouds. […]

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Magicians

Magicians Father raised bright tiger lilies and roses the color of the sunset, that slow, daily apocalypse. Trumpet vine and Copa de Oro, orange and gold as the wildfires that ate up our dry hills each Fall, when the wind began to howl and rattle our old wooden house. Some nights, we were a family […]

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Falling Leaves

Falling Leaves The monk asked the autumn leaf Are you sad to be falling? The leaf replied by waving to the tree on its way down to feed the soil, singing softly, See you soon!

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House Without Mirrors

House Without Mirrors This house is fresh, unspoiled. I want to carve love’s initials in its walls, never lay a hard word against you. In this house, clean of memories, I could still be good to you. New floors, fresh paint, no chairs.   [image: Erinn Hargis Photography]

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Cathedral of Leaves

Cathedral of Leaves Summer is here, and I don’t want to leave my porch. Steeped in slow heat, I sit and let my thoughts unspool, watching the smoke from my burnt offerings tell stories in the sunlight— backlit leaves like stained glass windows. A jay squawks and time stands still . . . I become […]

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Three Dogs

Three Dogs I watched three dogs play in the surf today, they were not heartbroken at all. They had loved, but it was pure: sea, air, salt, sun.

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