broadviewbuoyancy

[broadviewbuoyancy]

Embracing geodes

You turned to stone, When, not so long ago, I turned to moss. I already wondered what the reason was; So, Our dynamics change, But the love Is never lost.

--- 21-12-2024, M.A. Tempels ©

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.

cooking with fire

tapping my inner cave man

and modern tools

.

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Salty

like the ocean, by the breath of waves

draped in dusk serene, my heart listens —

soft, still

whispers that radiate from the sprawl of the universe, birds stream in aerial geometry, tasteful,

arcane,

an allure of a nature drawn palette.

Somnambulant minds turn beacon to one another in night's crevasse, barefoot tiptoeing

across the sand, hunting out the moon

which lingers

between the cloud dreams.

© Anna S. 2024

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filthy creature that I am,

floundering, fluttering, side of the highway crow,

silver cigarette paper

clutched proudly in my beak -

and if you ain't a treasure, precious, devoid of any price

and if I weren't but a bird sans flight

if I weren't a cold october night

triple-beam value weighed, contention wax 'n wane, hands a subtle shake

mired in mite and shame

filthy creature that I am,

my bedspace carved in the bankside, my dorsal fin sharpened to a blade

touch me, feel me alone, taste

catch, clean,

filet

hungry angel you became,

filthy creature that I am,

the same

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my raiments of worn vespers, everything turns blue a reparation gathering in the wing’s final pitch where stars shake and dislodge their sorrowful murmurs it always begins this way, over scoured furrows and woodlands emptied of trees - what do the guiltless dream of? Imagination stirs beyond me and it is my hands that make lamps of these first spring lilies, the haunted sciences of musk and voiceless mirths, and all of it illusion

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An afternoonʼs spent

slouched in my undershorts

my tongue a slab of sandstone

slack against my chin

as a gurgling metal orgasm of mercury

spurts out the tops of Americaʼs thermometers

Iʼve come to believe that

sinister munchkins on loan from Satanʼs workshop toil in the Sunʼs Knob & Button Suite

punching dials and tossing switches

until our eyeballs, once rivered with sweat

now puckered like parched currants,

plop out of sockets

and fall sizzling to the patio

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a salt sea sleeping

waves in the caves come crashing

I no longer float

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metal flow

My day is a mind split in fractions

my night is a burning wakeful dream

where I plead the beautiful white flames

to dance at the clang of metals,

rustless and clean.

Let the matters be the wind,

moon be the queen of sleepless enigma,

let the flowers of the earth

be the stars of the sky.

Wake up, O embered lotus!

wake up thou smoldering soul,

give eternal freedom

to the momentary indulgence,

make the moment a ceaseless spring.

Let the body be the mind

and the mind be life,

let life be endless stream

of northern lights.

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swell up to the size of how perception slides easily into the burrow take a guess how many blunt guts we dump into the rain puddle no one's sorry that the world is changing just the way she's starving for more positive attention the sword and the pen, the glass and the dish, the amount of time it takes to heal under an ointment made of shit they said they couldn't wait for the river to flow uphill so they died where they stood and let nature prevail

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This fog.

Grey like a gun.

Chooses me.

I float along alone unloaded.

Each breath dull loss.

Word splat.

Outside lays a dead advice.

The dumb indifference.

Being watched by nothing.

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In my mind I walk

the star streaked streets.

In the dark, my footsteps light.

Like when I was younger.

Yesterday I made my ma cry.

Sans wisdom teeth

with

new drugs in me.

She said I looked just like my dad.

These days became a swirling mass

A mess of mix, amiss, at last.

With no romance to what outlived

the need to crash,

that old impasse.

I seek no peace with my life's wrath.

Where once I laughed,

I leave.

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Has the curtain been drawn on

dancing to the fiddle?

The tune goes, O

idle feet, unfit sneak, stepping wind to flames, its call, the cause of crows,

all claims I've heard from

the whims I skimmed. There is no in between, we're

The Thinkers

on our bronze bull shit,

trying too hard to shrink ourselves

to rise

in time. Now do

you hear the whistle?

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I'm a slugfoot in a dry spot.

I sought mulch rot and grew upended, thoughts all one

unsung appendage.

Bottled up, battered down

into coalesced presence, that

dirt stench.

I passed by all the worms and shit and guess got recommended.

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Pulling straw from the ashes,

We try and stack a Lincoln Log house

where we can fish and grow our own.

You sat tired, tying strong knots through the night, applying liberal amounts of honey, force, and Gorilla Glue, holding tight till the bird scream grew. And still you blew it, the walls fell through.

Because there was no big bad beast to be.

The burst was only breeze.

Your home had been imbued, diseased,

the creature four walls deep.

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The you I knew

before the application

of the mortuary smile

would have had

a few more

last call beers

before the dark dive into

the hollow and the damp

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Settembre e la luna

ᵃᶜʳⁱˡⁱᶜⁱ

30ˣ40

L.F. 10 anni

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The cutest concrete shoes

Upon my feet, the fleeting

Feeling of falling

Listen for the crack

Upright, despite, this light

Pressed against my eyes

I am limping lately

A ship knows but to sink