say the woman is a storyteller fox brown hair a woman with eyes like forgotten treasure a lacy pair of fishnets and stilettos like steel moons she’s a gypsy who lives on the tipsy side of paradise a beachfront hut, a tin can shack where the sand meets the sun a floating wooden frame beneath [...]
Tag: mystical poetry
Pink Limousine
don’t look now, but our speaker is chasing her tail like a ball of yarn or a lazy shoestring a tuft of stray fur jutting out beneath the collar and a set of heart-shaped whiskers perfectly feathered at the nose to the left of our scene, a landscape like a fishbowl glittering under a giant [...]
Mannequin Planet
Original artwork by T. Blake pencil in the image of a dancing lady dress melted down like tobacco, a hit of vintage perfume and a smooth gathering of chiffon at the ankles, this will be her scene enter: a cat with a cool strut his groove is loose like silver, a cabaret like a one-man [...]
Negative Earth
T. Blake, Sisyphean Rhythm, 2019. it was a story as old as time but the morning after i couldn’t remember it the soft swerve of an open mouth episodes of everlasting love and a star-studded disco in the sand in my mind, the lost pains of sunrise and a sea of tadpoles redder than the [...]
Serpent Ring
there will be heaven in a green house with clairvoyant walls where the stars peep through its sides, a house like a naked eye with an emerald for a rooftop a jewel in the crown of a mile-high fantasy resurrected from deep within the catacombs of sleep it was there in the dining hall where [...]
Pirate’s Den
it was a mission i never meant to accept a treasure hunt for a chamberlain’s key a silver cypher with a face like a lion and an emerald-studded crown that was stolen by a pirate on a ship full of moonshine who brandished a heart-shaped sword, that infamous thief and lord of the island of [...]
Artificial Paradise
even the desert had forgotten the rose and the skinny glass house in which she’d kept it {that which shakes us from the grip of our totalitarian nightmares and rescues us from the sinking sands of a thousand deserts and the hundred or so oddities that parade across our eyelids while we’re fast sleep} a [...]
