Submissions by Feral
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Coyote winds howl through a star-jawed night. Sky-gaped, high, lonesome, and wild.
xi. albatross
A collaboration with chance -
What is this appeal to the idea of purpose?
Of separating and categorizing experience into
waking, therefore worthy
and
dreaming, therefore dismissible
These perceptions run parallel, the
categories are lies and the attempt is nothing short
of intellectual dishonesty.
It is true - there is no trust in self.
You are lost.
Not the wandering lost, no, you have traveled
through weakness into uncertainty.
Questioning the instincts that served you
for decades.
...
What is this appeal to the idea of purpose?
Of separating and categorizing experience into
waking, therefore worthy
and
dreaming, therefore dismissible
These perceptions run parallel, the
categories are lies and the attempt is nothing short
of intellectual dishonesty.
It is true - there is no trust in self.
You are lost.
Not the wandering lost, no, you have traveled
through weakness into uncertainty.
Questioning the instincts that served you
for decades.
...
#nature
89 reads
0 Comments
i.ii mythos; inoculation, mondream
i. mythos of inoculation
It was easy to be wounded by the sea;
to allow the salt to infiltrate my lungs.
Enduring the iron breath, lightning-struck,
as fulgurite veins transform and lend
weight to the descent.
It was nothing to dive,
to spawn gills and swim as a siren.
{When my skull lies with yours,
will you sing with me?}
Always, the in-between.
Human and Other.
I, composite creature, howling
my seven names
and singing the rain down.
ii. mythos of a mondream
...
#nature
177 reads
2 Comments
predatory scry
..forethought reveals
the obelisk at the center
of the universe, caught in the primordial
future.
is time real to those for whom past, present, and
annihilation are
but different directions in which to look?
the moon dies, crescent-wise
and the wanderer is trapped in cosmic horrors of Red.
of blood and billion year old rock.
she wears a cloak of mountain peaks and fears
the soundless winds of time that erode.
but she must bear witness to those that see...
...and know
the difference...
the obelisk at the center
of the universe, caught in the primordial
future.
is time real to those for whom past, present, and
annihilation are
but different directions in which to look?
the moon dies, crescent-wise
and the wanderer is trapped in cosmic horrors of Red.
of blood and billion year old rock.
she wears a cloak of mountain peaks and fears
the soundless winds of time that erode.
but she must bear witness to those that see...
...and know
the difference...
#magic
88 reads
1 Comment
ascian
Beneath each lantern; beneath each tree
blooms each night an irreparable longing
that is often mistaken for terror.
Perhaps it is merely the heavy silence
whispering,
"Return to me - the place in-between.
Will you not come home?"
Through all the nights of this life,
I have been traveling towards the shadow
second-self, sanity-spelled first {sibilance}....
a reclamation of the wild creature, scented
musk in liminal spaces, singing of reunion
and celebrating the mystery of grace.
To be...
blooms each night an irreparable longing
that is often mistaken for terror.
Perhaps it is merely the heavy silence
whispering,
"Return to me - the place in-between.
Will you not come home?"
Through all the nights of this life,
I have been traveling towards the shadow
second-self, sanity-spelled first {sibilance}....
a reclamation of the wild creature, scented
musk in liminal spaces, singing of reunion
and celebrating the mystery of grace.
To be...
#nature
101 reads
0 Comments
swan song for a sabertooth
9/2/23.
.
Who among us can recall
with any level of clarity what it was to be
unformed energy prior to coalescing sentience?
A thermodynamic accident -
We are but borrowed energy, borrowed time
settled into such a fragile form. Spiraling
around each other in
Inestimable and infinite orbits -
What an abundance of gratitude within -
to be such a present, meager whisper
barely able to perceive the self-same cosmos in secret wavelengths.
Even so,
before I return in silence to the churning ...
.
Who among us can recall
with any level of clarity what it was to be
unformed energy prior to coalescing sentience?
A thermodynamic accident -
We are but borrowed energy, borrowed time
settled into such a fragile form. Spiraling
around each other in
Inestimable and infinite orbits -
What an abundance of gratitude within -
to be such a present, meager whisper
barely able to perceive the self-same cosmos in secret wavelengths.
Even so,
before I return in silence to the churning ...
#magic
84 reads
0 Comments
xvii: evaporite
Must all be tinged from the first? It is strange,
this reactive safety -
I have dissolved a salt garden where minerals grow in spirals;
celestine blooms under the mourning star,
more delicate than the cyclic datura.
No floral impatience will decompose
the place I have made among
the sandstone roses and azurite towers.
if the intimacy of rolling fog off the sea,
rising through the trees; if even this
cannot break me open to receive,
perhaps the potency of ancient
and quiet things will.
Perhaps the answer lies ...
this reactive safety -
I have dissolved a salt garden where minerals grow in spirals;
celestine blooms under the mourning star,
more delicate than the cyclic datura.
No floral impatience will decompose
the place I have made among
the sandstone roses and azurite towers.
if the intimacy of rolling fog off the sea,
rising through the trees; if even this
cannot break me open to receive,
perhaps the potency of ancient
and quiet things will.
Perhaps the answer lies ...
#universe
201 reads
2 Comments
eleni adnasci
ix. breathing-in
.
.
.
.
.
.
…a wound of stillness…
root-worded, a long-toothed creature of the grave must I be;
sacrificing my eye to the mad tree, defiant.
There is a many-tongued spiraling silence
blooming creation in destruction -
perpetually adnascent,
reaching forward and stretching back into every insignificance -
I am living and dying them,
every moment,
repeatedly in once and forever
layered and -
seasonal-held in confrontation: the warp and weft,
weaving permanence...
.
.
.
.
.
.
…a wound of stillness…
root-worded, a long-toothed creature of the grave must I be;
sacrificing my eye to the mad tree, defiant.
There is a many-tongued spiraling silence
blooming creation in destruction -
perpetually adnascent,
reaching forward and stretching back into every insignificance -
I am living and dying them,
every moment,
repeatedly in once and forever
layered and -
seasonal-held in confrontation: the warp and weft,
weaving permanence...
#spiritual
231 reads
0 Comments
calico
red, this place is
creating a babel of space & time.
Eolian winds have conjured
swirling rock,
and I am awash in the forming awe
of knowing -
this place was once under the sea of my Cambrian
obsession.
It is familiar to me, inexplicable -
whorls and waves and wonder,
Am I home?
No matter how far away the Sea may be
or how long ago She fell away,
water magic lingers in the organic curves
of sand and limestone.
I yearn to offer everything Red within myself;
blood and hair and sunburnt skin.
...
creating a babel of space & time.
Eolian winds have conjured
swirling rock,
and I am awash in the forming awe
of knowing -
this place was once under the sea of my Cambrian
obsession.
It is familiar to me, inexplicable -
whorls and waves and wonder,
Am I home?
No matter how far away the Sea may be
or how long ago She fell away,
water magic lingers in the organic curves
of sand and limestone.
I yearn to offer everything Red within myself;
blood and hair and sunburnt skin.
...
678 reads
1 Comment
Osseous
I've always wanted to be a saber-toothed cat.
I run around with my little tape measure, my caliper, and my keen curiosity, examining my lineage going back millions of years. I have traced the eye-sockets of my ancestors.
Run my fingers along the sagittal crests, felt the teeth of my distant kin. Teeth that binds us, the stories that bones tell.
I understand them by touch.
Frustration:
I can only put one side of my flesh against the bone.
I want to peel my face off and place it over Boisei. Over afarensis, heidelbergensis, neanderthalensis....
I run around with my little tape measure, my caliper, and my keen curiosity, examining my lineage going back millions of years. I have traced the eye-sockets of my ancestors.
Run my fingers along the sagittal crests, felt the teeth of my distant kin. Teeth that binds us, the stories that bones tell.
I understand them by touch.
Frustration:
I can only put one side of my flesh against the bone.
I want to peel my face off and place it over Boisei. Over afarensis, heidelbergensis, neanderthalensis....
842 reads
4 Comments
brazen
.feeling more...
waif than woman these nights, returning to my shore.
Seasonal-held in Cambrian rhythms;
seafoaming at the bite,
rending vocal'd chordata, leaving only
siren screaming, speech stones - more mineral than grey.
becoming
these horses - roaring out of waves, thunder'd beating
and I'm left with a ripple.grey sky
giant eye - she sees nothing and all, save
lost stars in the birthing of galaxies -
spiral: nexus, my lunar plexus.
and the echoes of that same distance -
my elusive sanity, spell'd first {skin}
I outline my...
waif than woman these nights, returning to my shore.
Seasonal-held in Cambrian rhythms;
seafoaming at the bite,
rending vocal'd chordata, leaving only
siren screaming, speech stones - more mineral than grey.
becoming
these horses - roaring out of waves, thunder'd beating
and I'm left with a ripple.grey sky
giant eye - she sees nothing and all, save
lost stars in the birthing of galaxies -
spiral: nexus, my lunar plexus.
and the echoes of that same distance -
my elusive sanity, spell'd first {skin}
I outline my...
858 reads
2 Comments
Figurehead
i]Starboard, bow-perched on seaward vessel,
fixated: motions of rocking waves.
The familiar shock-chilled salt spray sting,
scents in liquid crushed shells,
glasswater and life.
Fingers clasped to air...
This is the chanced threat of falling from cliffs
that I live for, with
wild abandon.
Undulating hips, balancing ship
Matching these feminine waves.
As titian flies,
longing to dive too deep.
Skyward,
echoes of a distance that remains undefined...
I watch clouds form and gather
I see the immaculate, sun reflection...
fixated: motions of rocking waves.
The familiar shock-chilled salt spray sting,
scents in liquid crushed shells,
glasswater and life.
Fingers clasped to air...
This is the chanced threat of falling from cliffs
that I live for, with
wild abandon.
Undulating hips, balancing ship
Matching these feminine waves.
As titian flies,
longing to dive too deep.
Skyward,
echoes of a distance that remains undefined...
I watch clouds form and gather
I see the immaculate, sun reflection...
1072 reads
8 Comments
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