LIT ANGELS PRESENTS: I Am The Lamb Nervous at Night by John Brooks

Mind Over Matter Is Magic by John Brooks

In the Path of Totality (Crofton, Kentucky)

Moon disrupts routine, 
invites a false form of

night, its deep blue garb 
and katydid chorus, says to 

the sun I depose your 
no light light.  Otherwise 

this August day as common 
as robin song.  Umbra, corona. 

Beautiful vocabulary we don’t 
normally get to use unless we’re 

ordering Mexican beer.  Make 
no mistake, there will be no 

sacrifice but this is a ceremony.
At the apex clocks seem to 

stop, no birds investigate 
the tensions of the world, 

no news spreads in rumors 
across this field of parked 

cars and multi-state revelers; 
we feel only the pulse 

of the pull to recognize 
the richer life that comes 

with presentness; we can’t 
deny the shaded urgency 

of now.  To live in this moment 
is to ask theatrical questions.  

We resign ourselves to own 
our smallness, the smallness

of our fixed terrestrial locale,   
so sure in this undark dark 

until the disc passes and again 
the vast sun burns into us

less like a surprise than 
a searing inevitability.   

We All Come and Go Unknown by John Brooks