street art

death / split bone / a fish vomits / dream; heir or heiress, the yellow trees are fatherless; I remember the troubadour trees and their infant skeletons his blood to each leaf no seduction of the moon when there was no moon to run the drumming of tree molars and the caw of moon-eyed birds, […]

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first, nor last.

first nor last beneath the surface of the night the technical waves slam and whiten the wails of the fingers of each moon and tomb; I dreamed I wanted nothing at all not the moon and its ebony rings of blood, nor the lips of preamble’s breath to embryo fingers of a crescent moon; I […]

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two of the sea.

sea foam / moonrise / troughs of white petals / revivalist skulls of breath from a blistered wind / I lied on the floor / the window had twig elbows / the ancient fall, I bled white like the ants on the window-ledge. I tire; tree fingers tie their umbilical cords onto the late birds; […]

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I can not find any way alone (ft. Ryan Hair).

As I go through this journey of life, I can not find any way alone. I need you by my side. I need you to be my true north, my compass, and my guide. Subdued, my dear. Unreeling in the emptiness in limb by limb we are dreaming; the wind howls and endures the body […]

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Man of war (Draft).

stalk the ankles in the feast and death of the earth, man of war treetop ghost; the moon shines onto your bones drinking the falling of every fury and kingdoms of blood into the ghost egg to root a shape like a python eye while fingers lie in the comets, where to find a universe […]

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earth’s red.

in a ghost of the moon; archaic dreams cross the ocean; idled mind the hawthorn spume and Earth’s red moon, estranged to the headstone fare to ash-heaps and dissociation down the bones of beanstalk and the ghost, the moon, reddened mirrors of ourselves to feet of God, light lies to paralyze the Earth, an insect […]

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I’ve lived as a statue. (Prose)

I’ve lived as a statue, a quiet child. Overlooking the spume of glassy death— in the winds I would imagine to be like virgin snow; and in the cobalt blue of my father’s eyes, it is a glimpse of the sky in the brimming of sea to sea, ocean to ocean. Unsalted peanuts go to […]

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Bridge.

the shadows             cover the sands, each finger             in my hand threads liana             coast blue the bodies of ephemeral god’s eye; my father holds my hand             by the rope of the bridge; it, in a sense, is remote to me as a child; in memory, it architects a mist in mind, orange […]

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once a tree stood.

tread for days      blood pours in a drowning      diving into oceans. A murmur      in the stillness of the sea absent in the lunula white, weeping in the dying of the eventide      may you decide to leave as the crawfish float in unyielding waters,      delusional, still seeking the innocence of the […]

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of memory.

I am dream-bound      to the weeping mother of an ocean shore, my shadow is darker      than the prose tree of mind and desire           a prospect of inner lunacy and death;      the clam’s mouth is lighter between the sun, into the silence of blue willows      to the inmost bones of creation […]

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“I Wanna Go Home…” by Helena.

I remember the moon was about to shine at that time. Her parents were still at work and supposed to be home at 7 pm. During weekends, she’s back at her parents’ care while she was left with her witch grandmother on weekdays. A hell week as she called it. And to avoid getting a […]

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death in the ocean.

Death in the ocean only comes once upon the prose tree in my mind, there is a darkness in the lithe stillness of autumn oaks now gone,                as olive flowers; a fantasy heartless in horizon by Rome hills, a sea of loss      is what we lost before to the ebbing across the fight […]

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out of reach.

A wish, these solitudes in dark wept, midnight                exits in a dream, torturing you; emerges      in oceans, as if the face of the sea-light                is in a trance of wander, a dark mind urges       this end of game; the half-lit stretch devours death quietly in hyacinth winter as we left;                […]

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“I’m Leaving Everything To You” by Helena.

Just like a normal relationship, we had happy and bad memories together, but both I won’t bring to my next journey. I will leave them for you to have something to go back every time you miss me. I won’t be back for a while, or maybe for good. But, if ever I’ll come back […]

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no promises.

         The sea and mind in gelid movement acquiesces to the euphoria           in the distant laughter      of gradual woven lines of darkness; let it die a thought in the consciousness of bare winter      after dark and dark a derangement in the cold      falls inside glistening      we’re hiding in the silence; I […]

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Grandfather. (Prose)

Sometimes I wonder who you were, what kind of person you were. You were my father’s father. You are dust now. You are in the death of an ocean well.  This glow like an oil lamp through my window as I write on the anointed page, I thought of you tonight; a star-still night that […]

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“Letters From Her” by Kate.

Letters from Her: A Collection Female infanticide. The deliberate killing of newborn female children is a serious problem in India… This is a letter in a form of poetry from a girl who was killed and thrown in a trashcan by her parents. A letter written from a girl who was thrown into a trashcan […]

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“Fear, Light, and Liberation” by PatBunny.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves: who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of […]

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“A Clock without time” by Vinisha Panwar.

It was fine Living with a peace of comfort Each and every day with time Running out to please everyone In a nice cosmic yet real display Passions took a backseat while Dreams were lost in a world of Artificial love to their dismay Then an unexpected chain of events Told me to change myself […]

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“Ophilia” By a.d.matthias.

Cecilia paused. She could never remember their names. Perhaps she is never told; perhaps she is made to forget. Briefly wondering how many have come and gone, she then decides that names are ultimately inconsequential, before lamenting sotto voce, “What’s in a name…” They are only labels. She’d been given many labels by the therapists, […]

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