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 [...]
Tag: mystical poetry
Yellow Book Company
PREFACE yellow book company: a compilation of pages signaling a journey in non-sequential order (page 8) if it’s more real than white, then why don’t we save it a space on every forehead? not the past, little lady, the space within—no—the sight that gives sight, what blinds us to the gaps that only the mind [...]
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 [...]
Birds of Paradox
look at the finale like something the raven staged, the cyclic folding of the birds and the second season of our forgetting, successions of warm reptilian summers and exposed machine metal grooves hey, listen to that hi-wire astral applause rotations of a head blade of sound five points of life, tetrahedron of light the sun [...]
9Wave
Salvador Dalí, Untitled (Soft Monster in Angelic Landscape), 1977 & the day came when we were forced to feast on the entrails of a static balloon, the sky was any color we liked & the moon was fitted (with maniacal precision) by the sap of an unfiltered lemon dream (nothing beats the sweetness of a [...]
