Ice dark (the world is dreaming).

lie across the taurobolium at the motherless spring without feeling, without breath; pale mulberries infiltrate the wind in ice dark of obscured dreams by the sea-green void, vanishing by the surf, as the fresh dew slumbers in the whiteness of morning exorcised with twigs of the dying trees.  flicker with the nightly, strange sea, the augur bleeds madly onto the sand behind the betrayed fog … Continue reading Ice dark (the world is dreaming).

she takes.

No use for the forget-me-nots my fingers are frozen on the congeries of madness, please do not find my duplicity; through veins darkly, my pet virus born twirls the tribe of aurochs— but even then it could not embody an unbridled death to her bosom, we doth part, legs dither, heart ungrieved; if shyness shamed  the oceans slaughting  a bag of bones, it lain a … Continue reading she takes.

dream (returning hand in hand).

Black feathers as I dreamed,do not look at me; ebony moonthe lust of the body of the shore,as nightmares, in what I’ve neverknown at all, reflect the Artemis moon;the fat, yellow moon; it’s a blood-huntto the red-hills,and a sea,cocktails of sweatdeath at the ground. There is beauty in the death of thingsin imminent dreaming,for it’s like death itself; white fingers shuttingthey shiverto the cosmicin betweenveteran … Continue reading dream (returning hand in hand).

Variant Literature Magazine Publication.

Hello everyone. I have three published poems (“To Accede Into My Own Desires”, “Deep in my Heart”, and “Beneath”) in Variant Literature magazine, specifically in their Second Chance Anthology. My poems are credited under my pseudonym Ellie Onka. You can either order the anthology here or read the free PDF instead. You can find my work in pages 30–32. The Second Chance Anthology contains literary … Continue reading Variant Literature Magazine Publication.

Poem On “Poetic Slice of Life” Podcast.

My work was featured on a podcast called A Poetic Slice of Life. This episode delves into discussion of poetry and Game of Thrones: “Join us on storyboards. Each Saturday night the theme of the show is different from sci fi, cult classic movies, to comic book heaven with a side of entertainment that carries a dark edge at times. Saturday is focused on stories, … Continue reading Poem On “Poetic Slice of Life” Podcast.


Icy thorns in kestrel snow, I gather them for you; plunging ire to your still desert, stave it in illness, black lilies incite the gallows you bring into the ladies of dust if the blood oceanid parts. © 2020 All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a poem using the PLEIADES FORM (click HERE  for MTB 16/10/14 post on this). Pick a ONE-WORD TITLE … Continue reading Ionad.


Death’s weir from the mammoth faces we know, spuming dead ghosts into the sea. My mistress winter feasts her bones, to starve on the tongues of a storm; lips of Janus will part like Eve to the python’s words; o’ then in innocence who else if then would have a rib torn to kill Loneliness, the rogueBeet-blood, greeting youin a face of all faces enter, … Continue reading Faces.

“Some” Poem Published in Visual Verse.

Very happy to announce that my poem, “Some” appears in Volume 8, Chapter 1 of Visual Verse. Many thanks to VV to be in the wonderful company of amazing poets and writers. “Fossils / in our bed / furculain throat, splayed a drowninglest we know / ancient hibernations /anamnesis ribcaged /rigor mortis yawning / poisoned waves…” You can read the rest of the piece here. … Continue reading “Some” Poem Published in Visual Verse.


O she is a Sweeney dreamfrom dead ghosts into winter’s fast,beckoning duplicity Give me a danceto breathe in bloodline’s nursed moando not stare, darling Medusa, my distress,teeth slaught in seawater, howlingin waves as I dream and I billow from the earth. © 2020 All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt: “Let us write our own Jisei. Write a haikai (haiku, senryu, tanka, kyoka, … Continue reading Medusa.

eyes of the lagoon.

Father of gunmetal, fingers and sap kneeling to the blood-red of our faces from my formaldehyde Grandfather, in the black elms, a crown of sun pencils on white skin, now the eyes I find of the lagoon were treed in artichoke; father’s eyes are mine, the shore is from the foolish matriarch, babushka’s daughter and herself. Occam’s razor had slit feet: bloodlines cannot drown us … Continue reading eyes of the lagoon.

Ocean rattle.

Mesmerized by ocean’s rattle,I curl the thorns of the lilyinto the sway of red craters,cracked fossils; the possibilitythat unearths into a singlebloodline, staved in winter’s digits;I’ve cried for shadows offather’s uproots, whilsthe remembers Mother Nature’sfare. © 2020 All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt: Scribble us a poem of possibility using just 44 words, including some form of the word possible. Continue reading Ocean rattle.

“Fight Again” by Anonymous.

I lay on the ground, my body coldAs I can feel my soul lose its holdI try to get up, but fallUselessDefeatedI let my soul loosen its gripAs I fallFall deeperBut then I remembered everythingI remember why I’m doing thisWho I’m fighting forWhy I’m doing thisWhat I’m doingSo I pull my soul back inLetting it tighten to my almost lifeless bodyAnd I get back upTo … Continue reading “Fight Again” by Anonymous.

The ocean rises.

Fossil bone, a maiden’s cliffthrowing ghosts in the stalactitesthere, my ocean is there, and I will die with the thorn in my side;abyssal shadows are empty, sandstone splits at my cheek,look at the full-bodied ocean, their fish bones belowthe memorial, from so close, I can stand upon the ocean’s bosom,her white waves upon my fingersO’ death can make them primitive to infancy—caving inside the womb, … Continue reading The ocean rises.

This night.

summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might too leave in the white rose of lips; sewn a monolith  exchanging, in perfidy, a child at the river its maddening leavetaking, tucked in the shawl, a fellness of … Continue reading This night.


I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth, and the foot of the leaf between the limbs of a small tree halved like quarters, and still dying, I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— Ancestress of loss of the root and tree that tried to die. © … Continue reading I