Why can’t we sleep with the Gods? be with them turn their thoughts to foam touch and revere their lapis lazuli skin until myths flicker in the cave and the earth booms at their voices The rain from Olympus is…
Why can’t we sleep with the Gods? be with them turn their thoughts to foam touch and revere their lapis lazuli skin until myths flicker in the cave and the earth booms at their voices The rain from Olympus is…
Writing is quieting the burns from people’s thoughts and deeds And dissolving all knowledge that this will ever happen… Art by Andrea Kowch.
Iron fairies Never stoop to worry At clever inventions Of thoughts Coming from up North to hasten the revival of aloft shimmer-like words that shape and betray the troth between spiders and gossamers to yarn the magic of the moon…
My secret castle lies in Spring at the corner of vernal vicious winds… Surrounded by lilacs and violets blue Prolonged in the hue of abstaining pink… Faces and rivers smile in the sun Patience is nowhere to be found as…
Buried moon, buried moon Who to talk about at noon When dreams are plundered by light And powdered in gold and charcoal dust. Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse and at falter to surmise the scanty slumbering traces that…
Forget-him-not as there is no better feeling to construct a tenderer living in the uprooted land that thrives on light hope and might. Unlove-him-not as two hearts hoard together and endeavor against fallacy and the midnight country of regret. …
Cold is your heart Whose strings I cannot strum. Cold is the past Whose hours I cannot relive. Cold is the season Of remembrances fleeting And gaping wide in white furrows Where bears sleep Before spring. …
“Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn.” -Iulia Halatz