more of a loose assemblage of irregular horrors, personally

subtle bergamot; meditating over a solitary brew

twinned black in silver, dusk-interpenetrating; grey on grey by day

mumbling nonsense about the chirality and mating processes of various tiny creatures together as a mating process,

slick fibers; gouging runnels of irrigation salt-red (fuming) like the clay of formation don't breathe, spill fruit-rich, richer, filling silkmelting the rusted gouge claw, cast limb gripping flower gleam taste, saffron, rose, and folded sinews over harsh breath tearing

dustgulping building new wings from folded time

aurora-grey, folded over morning-fluids,

in still, fractured time a spillformed nacre bird wings against sheared-light black

wet tongueslick glister lingers; residual heat, tacit ownership

slipping, silver-smoke, from yourself is it immortality if you change, when you exist again?

sneaking off to shaharit while she's in the shower—

squeeze here for verse-vomit

lovely morning

couldn't remember a name for myself,

coiling, uncoiling in lapis— milkwinged, sweatraw scraping labor; and pierced through, this needle of salt, binding, thread like jasmine scent in heather—lenses surface tension, off-opaque tourmaline,

good morning to erasures and their shrapnel

could use more 'creature coiled on my stomach'

spilling, barnacle-wet indigo and slick white trailing, like gauze in salt breeze

Anselm Kiefer für Ingeborg Bachmann 2023-25

having a day off and enjoying the morning* is bliss *coiling and uncoiling, worm-bare, in a mazelike pile of bedding

throat-cut diadem, living garnet among rags facet bared to light—

and you took into your hand a slip of ivory poetry, worn soft along the folded edges, and opened your mouth to let evening and its burning dawn energy stream wet from your tongue at the edge of their old land,

ii churned black, lithe the murmur of cold lithe-grey sun-stretch, their wings spread wet to the sun-film, cling-red sun in wanting a slave came, no seed but the god of nothing like shadows in glass upon black air. my skin in void sinewed, blue in shadows bondage of my incense now smooth

they had heard the unnatural humming of a pylon in the summer air, and had actually gone beneath it

[] four-[]writhed, [] his long blue[] feathers remained folded.[] arachnids or orchids[] delineating[] limited[] black[] thought[] of light[] dwindling[] golden[] in the corpuscules of my[]—bloodstream,[] burned,[] white-[]invisible []gilt and carmined[] obsession[] ivory-pale,[] blank[] bloodless[]

tessellated, like endless inlays pearl-in-ebony near-violet, tracing each line in night-milk and moon-blood sealed, salved with wounding dove-on-barb, with dozen-handed smile, where saltdark breaks red on morning,

note:[] in []𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘴[] 𝘺𝘰𝘶[] 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳[] 𝘴𝘩𝘺[] 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦[] 𝘥𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭[] 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵[] 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴,[] 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦[] 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥[] ténébreux[] 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯[] 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵-𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯[] fifteen[] in blue[] abstractions[] scattered all around him,[] 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵-𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦[] free verse[] forgotten[] in private[]

[] Numbers and rows and series—[]harrowing pure[] suffering[] glimpsed[] clad in neutral black, leaving[] pain in her[] blue[] protective filigree [] the name of her illness[] formless[] creatures []swarming[] seraphic[] a favorite, lanky, awkward[] veil of[] shivering[] edge[] red[] daughter of the

He[], []moon that silvered[] inlaid[] pointed black[] lavender[] enduring[] pet dancer[] with fox-furred segments,[] beautiful[] his fingertips[] following[] torture[] suspended[] on the[] white[] of his left-hand[] as on his right hand,[] marble[] his shoulder[] transformed[] embraced, held, bewept

stinging lashkisses, breathtakingly electric; eyes flood, grateful tears

placed at a strategic angel,

ya3ni, make an effort "please daddy" is still annoying but at least you'd be trying

blackbird Screaming to be fed

whole thread worth reading

if you need an angel bitten send an angel

lilac rivulets— twinned tidal estuary dissolves into one

sargasso— in half light her lips #completethehaiga 147 #prompt #haiga #haiku #senryu @completethehaiga.bsky.social

obligate brood parasite

gloamsilk and lime salts shine like nacre on a clot; rustdawn on seadark

hanging sparrow neck crowned in wire and dry rope from nothing but the blue abyss of the desert sky. twist-thonged scrub brush; bluer pit and the grasp of brothers swings empty prophecy spilled.

cut swan-wings, piled, in silver-traced whorls blood-traced, digging fingers into concrete at the lip, porcelain-slick, glass spills, refracting and the lapis pit of the heart pools, iridian, like feathers of precious piss pit-warm,

the pit isn't deep enough yet. it's blue enough, though streaked, darker and darker you can hardly see the delicate, feminine white of the bones anymore, where they used to peek through like starling flecks. you can tell you're getting somewhere. don't look at the people standing near the edge.

soiled wingtips skating by, on floodwinds hot-scent of magpie flowers weft-rich, shroud-weary touch outlines, where pulsing within, red, torrents reimagine themselves as pitblue feathers,

I go to the next pedestal. There, your heart. There, my heart. There, so. Then the next pedestal, this one tungsten slat elevating an ear, sliced by serrator and missing the lower lobe.

With time, their bodies were corrupted into earthy visibility, and the ones still soaring the sky-high altitudes became lost, their worn-red pinions now tattered like moth wings, crumbling away in homesickness.

(building thatandthis into Thus, Around the reckless magic of your mouth) my love is building a magic,a discrete tower of magic E. E. Cummings

[—] latticed[][—] pain[][,] pain[][—] never written[][.—] bound[][—] into pain,[—] reworking[—] blank and black[][,—] naked[][,—] broken[][,—] wretched[][—] in the darkness[,—] blossoming as a concrete[][—] afterglow[—] tipped with ocher[,—] with the throb of[—] swallowed[—] daughters[][.]

like taut threading oil splayed pinion shudders, shimmers, at the touch of blue,

infinite difference palimpsest of lacunae אין מכול ישות

#ও☉❢☉✑ #poetry #writing #micropoetry #blueskywriters #writingcommunity