Still of the Night
A Writer's Lament
In the still of the night, I transcribe—
not with intention, but as medium.
Words crystallize like frost on glass,
unbidden patterns forming under moonlight.
My fingers become conductors
of some strange, arcane current, midnight ink
seeping through capillaries
before pooling on once-pristine pages.
Each sheet transmutes beneath my hand:
topographical maps with contours that hum—
landscapes of sound gradually revealing
their hidden harmonies and otherworldly passes.
The whisper of nib against paper orchestrates secrets
I've never consciously known—
incantations from some telluric circuit where memory
and divination intertwine their currents.
I am both cartographer and oracle,
mapping territories while translating their signals,
never certain whether I'm charting or merely channeling—
yet marveling at both.
Then the transmission falters, prone to sudden static.
The current ebbs without warning, or mercy,
leaving me stranded mid-revelation, hollowed,
holding an instrument that's gone inexplicably silent.
I linger at the threshold, fingers suspended,
awaiting signals with diminishing faith.
The page stares back, half-illuminated,
a communion abruptly severed.
What astral weaver connects and severs these threads?
What ancient circuit trips in the universe's design?
I cannot summon these powers through determination alone;
I can only prepare the sacred vessel and wait.
In the still of the night, I listen for the murmurs—
patient as a temple guardian in winter,
knowing the voices travel between worlds,
hoping they reach my senses before dawn, humbled.
— Dean Bowman
About the Work
Author's Note: This poem explores that urgent, almost electric moment when inspiration strikes a writer—when words demand immediate attention and you race to capture them before they vanish. In my experience, this window lasts only seconds or minutes, which is why I keep notebooks everywhere. Once that initial spark fades, it's gone entirely, irretrievable.
Inspiration: I wanted to examine the paradoxical nature of creative inspiration itself: how it arrives unbidden yet demands complete surrender, how it feels both foreign and deeply familiar. It is, regardless, all fleeting.
Process: This piece marked a departure from my usual approach. I typically avoid structured forms like rhyme schemes in longer works, preferring to let emotion and thought guide the poem's shape. Here, I experimented with formal constraints, though I found myself negotiating between the demands of structure and the organic flow of ideas. The tension between form and freedom became part of the poem's DNA—perhaps appropriately, given its subject matter.
Publication Details
Still of the Night
Genre: Poetry
Author: Dean Bowman
Publication: The Black Veil
Date Published:
Language: en
Format: Online
Dean Bowman