Two creatures fly silent between the still stones;
heads back, eyes wide, hooves touching down madly, surely,
swifter than the wind or death, who hunts them,
tail twitching, nose to the earth.

Kathryn Atwood

Sunday Morning Socialising

September 15, 2019

I wonder why
I always discover too late
What could have been wonderful

mermaids do it all the time

September 10, 2019

It’s true, I took a shit in the sea. It was such a long walk back to the guest house, and my need was immediate. It’s not such a bad thing – after all, mermaids do it all the time. Three perfectly formed turds, slowly sinking from sight. Such a great relief for me, too. I dived beneath the waves like a goddess of water, wiping myself on kelp and seaweed, a beautiful sea creature. The depths of the sea are like a giant window without sky or stars. It is always so peaceful there.

Sheena Samain
Plaisir d’Ô
Trans Peedeel

The Sea and You

September 10, 2019

The stroke of the sea upon my door
is blue sensation between my toes,
and your impetuous leap through my spirit
is no less blue, an eternal birth.

All the color of awakened aurora
the sea and you swim to my encounter,
and in the madness of loving me
until the shipwreck
you both go breaking the ports and the oars.

If I just had a ship of seagulls,
and could for an instant stop them,
and shout my voice that they fight
in a simple duel of mystery!

That one in the other might find
his own voice,
interweave their dreams in the wind,
bind stars in their eyes
so that they give, united, their beams.

May there be a duel of music in the air
the opened magnolias of their kisses,
that the waves dress in passions
and the passion dress in sailboats.

All the color of awakened aurora
may the sea and you expand it into a dream
that it carry my ship of seagulls
and leave me in the water of two skies.

Julia de Burgos

dancing rhythms

September 10, 2019

Tonight reality finally repudiated its margins, blurred into dream. We offered a libation to the moor, to the stones, to unknown Gods – to the deep night sky and the drunken poet who listens to the silence around him and the dancing rhythms of his own heart.


September 9, 2019

moon baths

September 7, 2019

At sixteen, Sabina took moon baths, first of all, because everyone else took sunbaths, and second, she admitted, because she had been told it was dangerous.

Anaïs Nin
A Spy in the House of Love

half-erased dream

September 6, 2019

Especially at twilight one lives in the fullest fantasy, a half-erased dream.

Federico García Lorca
August 1921 letter to Adolfo Salazar
Trans. P

Leaving by Train

September 4, 2019

Whiskered light throbs inside the station.
The chiming tunnel, its loud, lipped mouth agape.
The rough mirroring of our bodies, a brave illusion.
I’ve owned the fights, and this is it: bit his lip as he moved in,
felt tangy heat wrangle my tongue.
The train quivers away, a relentless emptying, relief snugged further in.
Trees approach, claw the windows — a branch’s embrace,
the wind in their tusks.
The seasons do not shrug each other off as easily as they used to.
They storm and plunder as if refusing knowledge of their own end.
The fields, roughly handled by the wind, make submissive bows
in unison to the spine of summer’s moving dusk.
I rest my head on the trembling window, watch the sky raise its night eye.
In the dark, a field of flowers, ribbed red petals, a globed
universe. The heart of a lion.
Even at this safe distance, a smell of flowers in the air.

Ashley-Elizabeth Best
from: Slow States of Collapse

methane dress

September 3, 2019

remedy advance
omniscient pavement

sickly uniform
exchange headstone

thump cyclone
adulterate unit

fleetingly diagnostic
especially fracking

whenever ancestor
buck room

secrete muscle
generation stains

distance basket
bouncing courtesy

proxy hernia
rainbow cursor

faux radio
welt crash

warring fractions
upholstery elite

special synthesis
favorite contempt

classic stranger
sorting award

plastic hallway
troubled fume

smoking typology
album drone

conclusive cards
laughing privilege

unexpressive net
crushing filaments

window justice
handheld sigh

irrelevant hazard
uninterrupted sleeve

indelicate pool
enjambed vista

vintage prong
non-normative feeling

stuck in impossible buildings

dizzy elegance
in a binary diagram

the bedsheet wind
is deafening

imaginary portraits in
sedated reflection

brittle flags for
vinegary excuses

pulse friendly a
buffed environment

scripted bodies
boycott levers

oversized facial
for bandaged perfume

casual stooges
lift up slime

sentimental abandonment
of polite zeroes

platform veneer
wears methane dress

Jane Joritz-Nakagawa