Prose poetry by Brian Barbeito

Seagulls silhouetted against the sky at a golden sunset or sunrise at the beach. Clouds in the sky.

From the Street to the Sky

The Pleiadians

It was the witching hour and I opened the window and watched and listened to the leaves tumble through the streets like restless spirits. I was listening intently to a transcript by the Pleiadians and they had much to say about the universe. They mentioned that a person should be constantly praying, praying all the time, as a matter of habit, if even in the background. I inhaled the cool fall air and prayed but also prayed that my headache would go away. Soon enough the sky would begin to brighten, but it would happen slowly. Not an alien mothership, but the natural cycle of night becoming dawn… 

The Bright Sun

…later inside the day, I ate with my beloved in a Mexican restaurant. There was nobody there and it was dark and calm, for the sun was too bright and even blinding outside. I liked the coffee but did look briefly at the drawings of margaritas on the wall. There were some skeleton statues on a ledge and I thought of Malcolm Lowry and his books and his life and also his death. He had a book I did not read, a book called As Dark as the Grave Wherein my Friend is Laid. Outside, after, I am of two minds about the sun. It is dangerous for the drivers can’t see, yet it is nature, the way of nature. Some birds gather on a long telephone wire. I want to stay and watch them but the world moves fast, and I also have things to do. 

The Nerd Unseen

I can see the nerd’s soul. It is better than others, and quiet and actually has a lot of happiness. Well adjusted. The cool adults are not cool at all. They are ‘of the world,’ as the Christians say. There is music playing somewhere and I can hear the wind. The day is winding down. Red brick houses wait in rows. I, too, will find and wear spectacles. It’s getting windy. I long for the night. Inside the night will be a time to read and write, to think and meditate. And to pray like the  Pleiadians said and which I do anyhow. The nerd will be okay, was always okay. Sweater weather. Autumnal colours. Book reading. Diary writing. Quiet spiritual and intellectual ascension. The nerd by their character transcends the world, and the world is full of war, deceit, lies, disappointments. The world is rife with trouble. 

Jesus Made a Prayer

It is the witching hour again. I re-open the window. Something dawns on me before the dawn. Jesus made that prayer. I say the words slowly. The tarot card reader is reading and sometimes uses profanities yet she is highly and sometimes completely accurate. She is of the light. But the prayer. -Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, they will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…- and I go slowly through the rest. For some reason it makes more sense then than it ever had. An internal heartfelt sense. I fall asleep. When I wake up something heavy or melancholic has lifted. The day is new. Though a bit far off, in distance and in time, the lake birds will silhouette themselves in the evening firmament over the lakes. 


the valley is still there, mostly unknown for I can see the tracks. some souls, sometimes, I guess go there. the autumnal leaves cover most of the ground whilst old fallen trees expose root systems and one thinks of some quietly strange and mysterious world of elves or faerie folk, devas or other nature spirits. how silent that valley world can be. I know the routes into it, and the ones out. you can climb a steep way, and be out shortly, or go long meandering routes and take your time, ascending like a gradual but confident spiritual journey. in the winter it shall be covered in a million or more flakes of snow that glisten in the sun or else don’t, for the saturnine lack of light in the overcast afternoon, the bully clouds conspiring to keep out the brightness. spring rains,- little wildflowers pop up, declaring their existence and life and song and love. summer,- heat and the sudden breeze briefly relieves the journeying. yes the valley is still there, and as the world outside continues its drama and mistakes, it’s pride and error, it’s deceit and unchecked ambition, valley remains stoic, sagacious, maybe even sacrosanct like an undisturbed guru -spiritual master. ah valley, it was nice to see you again.