these fields of echoes

[lorienfae]

Parallel, ripples echo a citadel of years that last minutes,

water billows in runaway time, reflections willowy and there's a litany in droplets worshipping our skin...

Are we awake now?

Are we the echo of a lone branch in a tundra?

Wires by wires through infinity, we run currents from the tips of our fingers, firing impulses past Neptune's seas, past the Kuiper belt, past dream and into

being.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Clavicle, cello, Cygnus feather-starred in everlasting ether —

a symbiotic esoterica harmonizing with mystery, plumose and haunting,

strings emit heartfall and veils of serein dripping as dusk kneels

before destiny.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Somewhere, there's a silo in the middle of nowhere, it stands in a field that has no end, it doesn't bend... it flows, like a crow's beak ajar in a trance, like the grain of eternity, sifting through a million faces, the silo

—filled with eviscerated time, it skews the mind.

There are a thousand voids littered in concrete, labyrinthine, turned ouroboros,

we run in circles in the silo,

we cycle, we— the spiral of life, tied into every centennial tree-ring and coalescing tide, whirlpooling into the yawning solstice,

equating equilibrium —charted course haunts, compass falls deep into the silo...

I remember Alice...

We all remember something, but we forget the silo over and over again, it falls away,

it doesn't bend,

it never bends, somewhere in un-memory it stands.

We— hold hands, in a field that has no end.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

[lorienfae]

Pareidolic confessions slowly siphon silence into a blur of worlds, words hung upon branch nodes and wind, pine needling about like a lost hermit, circumnavigating a tree stump, and all these faces of which Brian Froud'd be proud, and I wonder was it a stir of my aura that hummed a bit of whimsy into life.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Kelp ribbons through mystery-laden depths, shivering

like osseous fingers of a forest hag as she undulates in a bespelled trance around a bonfire,

or translucent green lashes of a siren as she hovers in that fog-wrapped realm of water and seaweed, her oceanite eyes brimming with untold tales...

kelp ribbons betwixt murkiness and light, swaying through liminal flow, shadowforms writhing into sun's echoes,

untranslated language rustling through each billowy strand.

— Anna s. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Like murky depths, this

day in un-definition

hovers, and

shadows

floor-dance.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Ataraxia

like the moon, I wane and wax, poetic and juggling phases of myself, phrases that layer the inside of dreams

sometimes I trail light along the rippling edges of water,

and sometimes I draw the wings of night around my self and linger

under the gaze of infinite stars.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Is it the lyrics of a song or the audial rendition, the soundfall of dripping notes and guitar-string confessions, that lingers where we linger in thoughts, in hearts

wrapped in layers of songbook pages, draped in veils of lines and clefs...

your pulse is musical, I feel for it within the acoustic effigy erected by an apt singer, the way his tongue flicks the flames of melody along the wicker-song limbs, rising and falling,

sexy

like your chest rising and falling, as you breathe while you sleep.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Sentience

is a clockwork hubbub, grinding

ruts of cogs

and hummed trills

of pulse and marrow; tea swirls

tacitly in its mug, revelatory,

and it's humid.

— Anna S.© 2026

[lorienfae]

There are slivers of us, echoes in parallel universes, in one, or many, we've met

and your arms feel so safe —

            an inflorescence that is a home, in each other.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Phantasmagoric pareidolia scriptured in bokeh of dusk and layers of gray, little smiles filtering through

the puddles talk

mockingbird cantillates its timely fashion, the citadel of silence crumbling

— hark! I am awake and uncloaked, minutes chastened by petrichor

and fleeting salvation.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Adrift is the aural hum weaving in with the fog, haunt is the definition of this place...

forgetfulness sifting fingerprints over the trees, they whisper...

they whisper...

douglas firs so stern, echoes lie unsilent and reveries run amok,

what is a raindrop but a game of mirrors, a portal in a funhouse, a carousel that juggles the worlds.

There is a humming in the air, there is a humming

in the air.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

Mist hangs over morning, mourning

minutes that are dust, and

we are souls of rebirth;

horde of tadpoles blooms

in the shallows, silently

they sing of life, synonymous

with our own human

transmogrification.

Heartbeat turns inflorescent

in these psychedelic dreams.

— Anna S. © 2026

[lorienfae]

This one's for you. Maybe one day

you'll read it, and

maybe you won't. Life

after all

is such an origami of moments, a magazine

of film photos

with a partially missing page

— it made it in a scrapbook somewhere,

or a diary, or a letter

someone wrote their partner,

you know the type, a travel memento

with many "I miss you's"

and the fluttery written hugs.

It

says "feelings" and "vulnerable"

and "heart upon a sleeve",

the kind of carelessness

love flowed in

somewhere in lazy summer days,

mixtapes, and ice cream

by a fountain, cuddling on a bench

as some kids chase soap bubbles

in a park...

It all sounds so easy, natural,

but it's really a dream

that comes while staring at raindrops

at a window, wondering

where you might be

and if you are blowing soap bubbles

aimlessly into the air

and listening to a vintage tape,

and, thinking

something equally romantically whimsical

about me.

— Anna S. 2026

[lorienfae]

Phantasmagoria

in a candle flame, sputtering, flittering

— encanting, calling to

breathe me in

like rainwater into skin, silence

dripped

from the endlessness of days.

— Anna S. © 2026