Posts

Rebel and the coast

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Seaweed and salt, rotting skin, stone petrichor — all is open, worn sand on the wind met with fire, sharp magic  missing muscle.   Coastal bones fly wildflower low, feathers are lost but the sea keeps teal and lightening  for whoever roams red among the coves. 
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The black balcony

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The pensham bell flower, white-tubed, heartbeats blue from the fairy lights; pendulum drunk on the closer stars.
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Morning call

By LJ -
The crow's call disintegrates the distant radio. All creatures look up — a beaked shadow over the bees sucking on their suns. 
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Schiaparelli with Katie

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It was like finding a ladybird in a cave; red dome waterfall, black gothic lace,  we traced flashlight shadows fashioned into stone, spread ruby beetle tulle around our legs.
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Butterfly alleyway

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Mint-milk wings, feet on city-heated bricks I'll keep you sacred — we'll pray in green dresses for more places to land. 
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Renaming the wind

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The wagtail ascends invisible stairs trees knuckle into airy sea foam  the moon-ghost has come to collect the sweat-tear frustrations grown by the Sun — we are running into the streets.
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Drying-off

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Throat-silver ore swallowed, the cormorant conjures his coal-elbowed bone cloak to nightmare-scythe  the pond line, satisfied. 
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