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All over the Internet I’ve read some very strong responses to Aberjhani’s angel poems and prose writings but I’m guessing people don’t really know what to make of them except they either like them or they don’t.
“These angels of poetry have a nicely wicked and scary sense of humor.”
—The Bridge of Silver Wings 2009
“Are there any who fall, when they fall, quite so hard as angels do?”
–Aberjhani, from review of movie Gabriel
“An unexpected swoosh and flutter of wings made him look toward the darkness above them. He couldn’t tell if what he heard next was a dozen flutists in concert or a lost angel singing poetry in a secret language. He tried to locate the source of the sound and figured it was coming from a circle of blue-blackness floating where probably a full moon should have been. At the same time, his stomach quivered and bloated as if he was about to give birth.”
–from Christmas When Music Almost Killed the World
“Stripping off my clothes with his wings
Louie the good mad angel said,
“Sure as flies go hog-crazy over poop,
death does love itself a bona fide poet.”
–from A Poet’s Birthday Dance through Fire and Rain 2007
“The Angel of War experience was a weird one that I did not have time to contemplate long because—talk about some serious irony—the next week the Angel of Peace showed up during a storm that knocked all the lights out.”
—The Bridge of Silver Wings
Over in the doorway there stood an exquisite emerald-colored angel with wings that pierced the floor and ceiling. The light of it shined all over my nakedness and burned away the water remaining from my shower. I seized the opportunity presented me:
“Am I alive or dead?” I asked the angel.
“Uh, ‘yes’ what?”
“Yes you are alive, and yes you are dead.”
–from Angels and Shakespeare
Midnight Flight of the Poetry Angels
(in honor of a poet who would be president)
What once was blood streaks
your face with indigo tears
and lush midnight tunes.
Holding silver hands,
you compose a Tao of art
that heals broken wings.
Lips glow violet,
open to reveal tongues bright
with pearl metaphors.
A speckled halo
handcuffs the world’s best liars
to soft dark passions.
Music’s sweet labors
give birth to a springtime rush
of sighs rippling dreams.
Out of your mouth rhymes
blossom like warm paradigms
already in flight.
Golden, your songs,
nobly spinning planets on
their axis of love.
On faith’s battered back
calm eyes etch prayers that cool
a nation’s hot rage.
Inside these scarred hearts
genius flows incandescent
waves of truth made real.
Hope drowned in shadows
emerges fiercely splendid––
From The Bridge of Silver Wings 2009