#imagist

[tompuschautz]

Splat!

[milo-the-crotonian]

'Centaur Song'

-Hilda Doolittle

"Heliodora, and Other Poems"

[env0writes]

Passive Ingression, 1.2.23 "I will bend and dance in the wind but only break what stands in my way”

Cold wet and weary Finds the new year Rounding flooded corners Strewn with yesterday’s accidents The sun rises bright in mud puddles Damp deep doorways Guiding reflective thoughts Towards a closer skyline Hale winds pull at barren trees After weeping days Not a willow in sight to grieve A new year slides, soaked To the bone over yesterday’s roads Petulant baby-new year Playing in storm drain sinkholes Will the arctic greys give way And yield to warmer new growth? Melt like stranger’s shoulders With passerby clouds That look like snow piles in melted pools How cold a heart the coast retains Beneath weary hills rolling in their sleep Did you not love once? Felt the sun’s kiss On your permafrost horizons Warming deep into your roots Corners are for rounding Stamp out the smoking cigarette Be not idle next to sunken streets With potholes filled with well-wished rain Watch, but do not touch The wildflower burst through Frozen soil and fractured asphalt But do not touch its winter wearied petals Spring is still many horizoned hills away Burgeoning with poppies Opening their arms To embrace the morning light The first light of a new year A cold light of a new dawn

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist!   Photo by @env0

[talunan]

mitski; two slow dancers // philip hanson; dancing couple 1 & 2 // louise glück; tango // väinö ilmari kunnas; the grey dance // @otpprompts // alfred h. maurer; nude dancers // richard siken; scheherazade

[we503]

Whirl up, sea— whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines on our rocks, hurl your green over us, cover us with your pools of fir.

‘Oread’ by H.D.

[janedoeistaken]

Hilda Doolittle•~<

[softromanticwanderer]

Instagram: alaswrites

[uaithne]

Distended between azure sutures, tacit clouds of snowflakes shimmer ‘twixt arching pines through which the sun — great orb on high, golden, glistens.