Haiku 4
Once Midnight dreaming
Sounds found phosphenes in the hand
Tasted as though night

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
KIROKAZE

@theartofmadeline
wallacepolsom
RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
h

JVL

blake kathryn
🪼
occasionally subtle

⁂

Product Placement
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
taylor price
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane
seen from United States

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seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany

seen from United Kingdom

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@exploetry
Haiku 4
Once Midnight dreaming
Sounds found phosphenes in the hand
Tasted as though night
Haiku 3
Ended candles tossed
Ants can have a hayday now
Sun and Moon are wax
Haiku 2
Rain in Autumn spit
Reigned in on him as though thirst
Dirt put ear to ground
Haiku 1
Wolves in staccato
Whispering at that mudslide
Flocking to the brink
(KCK)
Stranger more rare
collectable things sewn together
concerning shoulders
soundness between blades
more so unique remnants
pointed hints let hips stray
wanting to interrogate
conviction to distance
in safe topography
wiry sinewy birds
lines trace epiphinal landscapes
magical conch shells
on realism shelves
never have gathered
existed or flown
gather them up
stones and pebbles
if crows might murder
flock together
endure like rain sent
qualify tears with great advice
pocket worthy as a flashlight
sturdy as memories of boots
once pointed polished on feet
now imagined as cartoons
worn as receipts of whimsy
assess altitude
careen and plan for dusk
against the wall
throwing snakes
blurry-eyed
dim dive holy corner
of a sacred side street
remainder of the evening
wearing total outpatient
stumbling, immersing
remainder of the evening
against adjacent fires
laughter and interaction
anywhere I could be
recovery techniques remainder
of the evening maybe
moving sofas for friends
catching crabs for supper
in the lord's lockbox
philosophising
schooners that might sink
remainder of the evening
because of grotesque hauls
one of a kind indiscretions
but still wanting badly to monologue
the mathematics they found
cute in the world
remainder of the evening...
a part of something left over
maybe something was completed
Excruciatingly keep
something gross
in your pockets
close but, polish it
and deeply look into it
in the mirror
keep some trauma
put it in a chair
that does not wobble
every day will expect you
to scrape your gums of it
every evening alone
before you can sleep
speak to it for a moment
with the accent that demands
it get it's chores done
when planning your next day's attire
wash your hands
Current bookmark
holding the page
on Perdido Street Station
is a tinted left lense
that fell from a dusty
pair of sunglasses
my son found
on a walking trail
and brought back home
for some reason
From Trees Fall Folklore
between decibels
unearthing all
at heaft of rebirth
nearly all at earshot
least one hive tunneling
to become sudden
near warming
reaching red thrumming
octaves stirred by degree
stern and sure
to slight and reach aria
throwing cadence to fissure
to the sandman's stone
dead seventeen
in sudden dialect
since salt exploration
cup closely hands
the outcry might ring temperature
we can't all be eaten at once
must not sleep
must swarm others
80′s Halloween
Every Octobers’ floorboard
creaks shadow
proclaiming inches
porchlights add flames
to flex our chests at amock
would squelch or squee
every October
to fill its belly
busted after night fall
to get rusted nails
round that sweet tooth
those fingers gloved
the vivid wanting
to be cut out of cloth
swagger, hairspray, and neon
gotten from somewhere
didn’t come home
til’ Ben Coopers’ werewolf was cracked
and tattered from savegery
til the pillowcase filled
every October still loved me
all red and gory with candy
Arthur Spun a Coin
fill a cup and vague
over our shoulders at something new
run the Louvre
small fingers tracing of
light along one tall window pane
briefly chiaroscuro
briefly intently dreamers
watching your feet
inside above
cinammon dust breathe
& outwardly
batting precious lashes
thinking and....., seven stories below
rods and romantic kisses
cones and clarinets
that which makes of daylight orange
even Ms. Karina
the whole Manhattan colourful
Could spin footsteps
see us dance
a band of outsiders
throwing darts at rain
nine minutes, forty three seconds
Imogene electric red-haired cursive
Witness did she enough sunrise
the dusk, the gracias
must’ve danced
and only told the train conducter
nightfall with teeth
rhapsody some high
magician of Summer
and fried catfish
and garden strawberries
in a big Lincoln Towncar
a hand written letter of a lady
“Didn’t make it top heavy,
we didn’t all want the same thing.
So, it allowed us all to think a little broader
and feel a little broader
because, uh... we were experiencing
other peoples experiences.”
-Willem Dafoe
Paintbrushes
Tilted downward haloed
stairwell
jarred under trickle
tattered down well
a window nook
whispering ribbons
chromas’ dregs
crimp into drain
percolate iridescence
Gateways Club
feathers splitting
sauntering to crease
King’s Road echo cellar
worn-well shoes
stuttering now
stolid thrumming heel
between fumes of gravitas
spattering color
out wild oblique
ink hanging ferrule
doing suffering swagger
still upright saluted
cheered
no orphan mythology
left splayed alone
bristles thrum to rinse
belly and toe and swim swim swim