Each time it changes colour Starting with curling formation sailing forth slow in harbours reversed. This is what we call creation An artist transforms each version wildly welcomed by all muses bringing short deleriums of delight. I follow the lines on my hands and watch them melt into sentences lost There is an overgrown path in the depths of my being. Once , I took it each morning without haste. I took it each evening with an even greater sense of purpose. My hands were always filled with flowers, my pockets made a clicking sound due to...
Silhouette skies proclaiming horizon awareness Crows speak in orbital oath A stiletto echo balances their tune Near of night brushes rouge Upon her golden boned cheeks She breathes siren kisses To wear air upon her skin She is sheer fabric Wind will make a gown I am her bride
Ask veit ek standa, heitir Yggdrasill, hár baðmr, ausinn hvíta auri; þaðan koma döggvar, þærs í dala falla, stendr æ yfir grænn Urðarbrunni. (“There stands an ash called Yggdrasil, A mighty tree showered in white hail. From there come the dews that fall in the valleys. It stands evergreen above Urd’s Well.”) -------------------------------------------------------------------------
From dusk it blooms An iris unfolds Skeleton petals First sun and first moon Wick of flame Tongue of fire Odin...
There are voices reaching my ears through tidal vocal cords a procession gathers around In ceremonial silence All now await the music of life An acrobat preforms this alphabet in dust Granite air we gestured our pantomime wave a guillotine smile hung low between us
Pearlescent images of marbles rolling over endless pavement They remind me of your eyes I remember thinking of shooting stars and Jim Morrison whisphering "death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as Ravens claws' Ravens can not find me here as your wings slowly form Your hands feel like snow in summer an orphanage of words plays strange nursery rhymes ...
Dew rained down upon each blade of grass facing heaven forloin before me Wading in a bed of thorns It was your wind that invited me in a promise of bonfires Harbours which shaped your eyes into almonds each time I escaped into you I crushed rose petals into violins All the violets are dead only prose will find you now
Grand trine of letting go breaking chestnuts like anchors Listening to seeweeds drifting tides sea has left me your face to mirror each movement a catalyst smile buried sun into your skin That carved my name into earth`s ears and once again She did not hear me
She is prose Shakespeare`s lover satin once stained By each layer She is a decade of aesthetic silhouette In crinoline Never did her bodice wrinkle From strained passion an opulent flower lavishes breath over history combed with lace Eternal frost ethereal grace
I was reading a dead man`s newspaper on the first train home Through the ink I read his spirit walking highways lost His life lines were carved into the space of my palms His eyes were tundras of emptiness as his heart sank deeper against my skin He reminded me of hope He reminded me of all things human Dead bird floats the sea Starts to sing in lethardic sunlight This train has never left me since
Mute harlequin unmask your silence Weave threads of red cedar around your chest Remove not your nitrogen shadow Of half sickle moon Wildfire engulfs you through canopy of this night you now burn so readily https://youtu.be/XHWHTrr-B0I?t=1