Flora
tiger nest //
laron
pulse, on paper-smoke and shadowing; a word
kept embers leaping, or whittling laced attention
when the swarming cloud was passing out and in
to the conic torchlight, flint-yellow, on a smudged
and charcoal night; the humid heart grew lungs
at the carpal joint, let choirs through the rupture
soft cedar traces wrinkles into the maiden mask
of the moon; the flickering phase transfixes them
//
🌔
feelings //
the good shit
for Petals in her present pleasure zone
she’s rolling round inside the one, the good shit
the fine, the best, ye olde Platonic shit
no hydroponic, just sanctified dank
under Sumatran sun; for snub-nosed exodus
in summers mud, her laurel wreath of sticky bud
up drug botanical by trashy magazine
like chocolate pharma-chronic feuilletine
and toke thine truffled nugget whilst ye may
my silk-eared pig for liplined valentine
today her carrot conversation hearts the play
her eats the emptiness of tools as feels divine
//
E=m11!1
//
🌒
crossing //
ovarian //
Socrates: by Hera, it is a beautiful resting place
this platanos tree is hugely wide-spreading (amphilaphes) and high (uphelos); and of the chaste tree, the height and the dense shade are entirely beautiful; and as she holds on (echein) to the cusp (akme) of her full bloom, she supplies such a sweet-smelling place; and also the graceful stream is flowing under the platanos tree with exceedingly cool water, by the witness (tekmairomai) of my foot
and by the girls and the statues it seems to be the temple (hieros/hieron) for some kind of Nymphs and of Achelous; and again, if you wish, the good breath (eupnous) of the place, how sufficient (agapeton) and violently pleasurable (sphodros hedu) it is; summery and clear, it responds to the chorus of cicadas; and most subtle (kompsos) of all is the grass, that it has grown (phuein) in gently to the steep slope, sufficient to hold, for one who has laid down their head, altogether beautifully
so it has been the best stranger guide for you, O beloved Phaedrus
held
i grasp, i grasp, i fumble empty air
my fever head green tea cat litter ache
my cannot place the growing failure make
my pillow eats the grass until i wake
//
pause for illness
Socrates: (cont.) that it has grown (phuein) in gently to the steep slope, sufficient to hold, for one who has laid down their head, altogether beautifully
// 230ξ
ὅτι ἐν ἠρέμα προσάντει ἱκανὴ πέφυκε κατακλινέντι τὴν κεφαλὴν παγκάλως ἔχειν
//
of all
the most subtle
that of the grass
that in gently
to the steep
sufficient has grown
for one who laid down their head
altogether beautifully
to hold
//
maidenhair //
sound
returning traces undergrounding borne
as open airing round, roots longing light
commemorating leaves inhuman voice
midsummers dream, a choir, the covered face
//
way //
scent
no sweeter nothing making than a flower
sustaining tension, fluttering on the wing
Papilio memnon round lemon-balmy vervain
by ghost of anther’s end, the probing hour
//
the mallow sea
sleeping moons in a plastic spoon
slip them into the watcher’s tea
undertow and the lunar noon
float away on a mallow sea
loo, loo-loo, the empty sea
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
a fooly tumbles on her head
a froggy for the willow tree
fall down into the green grass bed
sail away on a bumble bee
loo, loo-loo, the bumble bee
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
a fairy’s wing in every room
a pocket for the marble sky
fluff the pillow and sweet the broom
softer than a glow worm
loo, loo-loo, the marble sky
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
sleeping moons in a plastic spoon
slip them into the watcher’s tea
undertow and the lunar noon
float away on a mallow sea
loo, loo-loo, the empty sea
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
//
🌕
//
mallowtonin
&
pour notre
voyeur
//
hag-seed
4 all
//
Socrates: (cont.) and of the chaste tree, the height and the dense shade are entirely beautiful
// 230β
τοῦ τε ἄγνου τὸ ὕψος καὶ τὸ σύσκιον πάγκαλον
//
Vitex Agnus-castus or chaste tree was associated with rituals for Hera and Demeter and medicinally, since ancient times, with women’s reproductive health. The name of the tree (he agnos/agnos) means sacred, holy, pure, chaste.
//
hark
to hear the tonic of their nightly play
as love is changing eyes in light of day
and who the lover, who beloved, held
as shade made young again, the poet shade
sweet length possessed translucency of leaves
and valley shelters longing’s grave delight
how sheer the veil betwixt the true is made
and barefoot is their tender-stepping sight
inscript resounding hollow as a tomb
body beholding spring again and bright
green heart grows whole again, the tree un-felled
for midnight girls around a golden wound
//
🌔
//
stable horses
night rising
wave
//
my hollow
your darkness and your might invisible
to me, my pale eyes sun shy, your body
at noon, under pitched roof these lines
of wood i measure, cut, re-stood you up
to feed an appetite for shade, i am
a miracle for trees; and what i build i must
maintain, stretching, pressing, inhaling
every season warping edges, exhale down
shelter; my daily coir, your angle slant
corporeality; my hollow here
and where to see you, if, once i’d grown
my fill of this inside, the outside known
by doorways, windows, the tunnels ants dig
out foundation for the sponge, this marrow
empty nest of the mud wasp, left dust
unsettled; your crevice, my cusp, bright-daggered
lapses; your love letters, my red rose
replies; a jepun tree grows over my grave
shaggy roots to the unscripted bone, home
to fallen flowers light on my unmet nature
//