Song and sound. The little girl bounds across a beach of sand to a cold, flecked sea, splashing from knee to knee in the lap between waves, where, listening beneath, in the deep deep deep, she hears a willow of whales. They don't speak in vowels and consonants but sing of oceans and continents.

👋 🇳🇱

Subglacially. The ice knows. It has known since before names, before warmth. In the cold black, microbes. Extremophiles unfurling. 15 million years of silence, yearning, thrust against itself. Science. The dentist chair. The drill’s hot bite—a clean, intimate crack. Oh. Hello. #vss365

the bugle's last notes fade into two short minutes of silence #dailyhaikuprompt (fade) #haiku

fog borrows the bridge #haiku #poetry

the rain still falling the rain that fell yesterday all you can absorb

The Auditor found Theseus misfiled under Agriculture. Our hero was slowly plowing labyrinths in concentric furrows, subsisting on red stringy corn. "Another fragment in the wrong section," she tutted. Theseus looked up, wide-eyed. "Má Día! No! I've finally found peace." #vss365

Literature flickmouth of a ghost- turn celery clear flake bark / fat of meaning / felt of page a reliquary a fruit stone a marrow snow Read is to pulp a guttering suit breath shared to nothing it is a wooden suit #vss365 #Literature #poetry

It is the law and it is the law and it is the law. Enormous bird. Ugly wet embryonic. If you bury it. It will cry. You cannot. It wants to be held. You cannot. You put it inside grandma's shoebox. On TV they set themselves on fire. You will not you will not you will not. #vss365 #law

#vss365 watch your language! why, what’s it doing? having intercourse #language

This Autumn woodland path talks in bilirubin phrases Telling the story of spring and summer with #language made of colours and smells that permeate receptive minds Quiet is the wind Mist holds secrets Which winter will bury forever #vss365 Birch by Ullswater October 23rd 2023 #Photography

reverential touch; your scalpeltip, my shiver– we’ll remember this

what remains of her, the indigestible parts– gristle; stubborn spite

Post-migraine epistemological vertigo... Doctor! She’s trying to reduce emergent reality again...

#vss365 We spoke in a #language of “almost.” It was fluent, but not truly expressive. It didn’t serve us well.

A burn-script. Wingbeats translate: immolation—pure. Desire devours cellular language. Moth. Luminescent wound dissolving. Attraction looming over a delicate syntactical skin. Moth smiling with a world's hereity. Stuckjaw feeling of the moon between her teeth. Honeying. #vss365 #language

History sounds like quicksilver owls. Their silence is captivating. You sleep in a foraged quilt of phantom tastes. Somewhere mold powdering, the white bloom of forgotten oranges. You remain unafraid. Night breathes silk in jasmine. You float out of a window. You remain unafraid. #vss365 #history

The migraine is a country roadless radio slam- banging geography geography geography until syllables split pulp until mouth forgets lips until word loses north somewhere is a tar pit bubbling over crater-spit logic. Come like a cracked egg soft cover me in it. #vss365

pine sap balm reincarnation of a tree #haiku #DailyHaikuPrompt (pine sap)

Pine sap residue Sticking while stacking wood for Winter on the porch. #DailyHaikuPrompt #Pine/Sap/Porch #haiku #senryu #poem #writing #writingcommunity

She is fatigued and is #famous for it. Her burnout has been photographed for 17 high-fashion magazines. People touch at her like it's curious fabric. At parties, strangers ask to borrow her sleep. She keeps it in a rubber pouch which smells of chlorine. If it leaks, she jerks awake. #vss365

Look out a window Open air classrooms Nature’s always schooling A different kinda #education #vss365

Touch teaches touch teaches like a warmly book much thumbed wet smudge a door write here and here is everywhere spine spilling yes yes an education of yes. Again. The body's curriculum slow perfect not quite repetition until wildyes knowing flowers shiver out of her head. #vss365

of silver and brass moon-scales in the waterfall dreams flit like carp #haiku #DailyHaikuPrompt

#vss365 I am fascinated by the daily #domestic rituals performed by Earthlings. My favorite it’s called, “Burning Toast.“ My conjecture is that it is done to summon their ancestors. And it is done with great fervor.

#vss365 “May the Angel of Wildness disturb the places where your life is #domesticated and safe, take you to territories of true otherness – where all that is awkward in you can fall into rhythm.” - John O’Donohue

A marzipan cage; the house tastes of her. Everything she touches becomes hers, touches back. At night, walls press close, pulsing. She runs her mouth along a lip of cool glass. Domestic. The cat knows. Paces. The word is a fury, agreeing to purr. In small, slow circles. #vss365 #domestic

#vss365 #Creature your wings granted freely, a gratuity in lieu of gills: a sort of compensation for your fragile nature, your anxiety — you are hurled from cliffs and rooftops, after all. Of deep things: well, need to know only, submarine and perhaps sub-holy, many lives to live later and dive.

clocks reset 🕰️ sun low at three p.m. 🔅 cycles disrupted 😯 #senryusunday #senryu #haiku #timechange

oh small tree i too feel the wind #eastcoastkin

by the blue gate a whiteness of sleet black dog almost settles #dailyhaikuprompt [sleet] #senryusunday #senryu #haiku

The First Frost, 1906 by Austrian impressionist painter Olga Wisinger-Florian #womensart #November

The #creature only wanted affection, a little tenderness. It loped forwards towards the two girls playing in the sunshine. The bright light made its head thrum with pain and it reached out to the children for comfort. One screamed, the other recognised the hurt and the creature began to cry. #vss365

Here's a phenomenal selkie for selkie-lovers everywhere! 🌊🦭🖤

An online lecture tomorrow... Snake Symbolism & Repressed Histories of the Feminine 🐍 👀 #mythology

A #creature arrives at low tide, dragging a hastily-packed suitcase—its torso. Salt-crusted hinges for shoulders, burnt clothes trailing. The dream mechanic does not look up, extracting a nightmare from a selkie: fish hook barbed with headlines. The creature shudders. #vss365

The dream mechanic works in the light of the waxing gibbous. His eyes glow the colour of question marks—paragliding—lost Chagallian horses—wild women saints—rusalki—ocean—ocean—ocean...You don't feel the neuronal scaffolding, the cold grease through your cogs, at all. #weirdmicro [waxing gibbous]

An afternoon with the colour blue. #amreading

earth splits- something without eyes opens its gaze #horrorku #haiku #poetry #Halloween

In the light the ache is perfect. It is geometrically infinite. In the dark I x-ray myself into transparency. You are beautifully earnest as a manta ray. I give my skull as an aquarium. Look! You are here. You are here. And you are here. #vss365 #ray

warm rain a kind of blessing #haiku

some kind of hopeful dark that is green and shining magpie’s tail feather

north wind gusting leafless trees rub, bend, groan sometimes break #dailyhaikuprompt (groan) #haiku

autumn bracken the hawk soars through a shrews shriek #autumn #haiku

Greeting the day. ✨

Hello lovelies. Ghost Light Lit's Myths and Monsters finds beauty and hope in the darkness. I'm so excited that my story is included with these inspiring works of poetry and fiction. Hope you enjoy. 🧡 #amwriting #fiction #writingcommunity www.ghostlightlit.com/read.html

Music sliding in the hall, Stranglers through Doors, he curls up beneath covers, catches shadows in that thin light, skin deep in the frame, the sound floats under over, sloshes and sloops, distorts his hears as he pulls blankets tighter, a murmur, voices, laughter, the adults are up late tonight.

She left her head in bed, sat on the bus, feeling dead, when the driver asked where to, she shrugged and he felt himself laugh somewhere far away, soft on his pillow. Past a blow of curtains, she heard the moon snoring softly on a cloud, dripping #argent mellifluous light all around. #vss365

In sleep I #doorway into myself, where centuries pool like mercury, my bones honeycomb, dripping time—burnt photographs, unborn snow— I am the door and the walking through and the walking through walks me. #vsstimetravel

His words came out argent—each fricative a tiny coin, raining from his mouth like drool. She collected them in her palm, still warm, wet as lunacy. She kept them close—studying their grooved edges with her tongue, where no one could see. After mint, came the real flavour. #vss365 #argent