just know, sweet Cynthia,
sweet Cynthia of the summer,
soft Cynthia singing in spring, I'd capture you
and hold you in a conch shell,
keep your voice as mine, and only mine,
my own secret, so continue to sing
and pour your voice into the shell—
you are dusted in a golden ray of light,
there are wafts of chocolate and cocoa that spray
from you, like a mist of shea, toasted almonds,
and a warm vanilla swirl, like the glossiness
your voice has as you coo, croon, and swoon—
Cynthia, pistia, pistis, to drink:
I sip your voice like wine, my glowing-ambrosia
that serenades my dehydration, I'd have you,
in any way, in any way I could, to keep you
I eye your dewy skin, I have to look away,
flushed as if with fever —
spotted upon your amber neck, tawny and bronzed. . .
diamonds sleep around your collars,
your voice reverbs and skips throughout
my skeleton, my sternum, boils in my marrow—
I want you and your words—
you sing our braided history,
you let me rest within the cradle of your timber,
read aloud to me this book, sing it to me,
move your jaw to shape the resonance,
paint my four walls with tones,
overtones, pitches, unheard waveforms
saccharine and diluted, powdery you taste, powdered sugar
and still, you are a cool liquid tumbling down my throat,
down my esophagus, I want you, I want your
voice—
I capture your runs and licks
in a crystal, a vial made of alexandrite,
your voice bounces, trapped in its crystal lattice
I wear it as earrings, I wear you as decoration,
and I hear you all day, throughout the night, all the time,
poisonous words, spritely voice,
killing me softly
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 12:39 PM UTC
lo and behold — a message in a bottle
washed upon the shore surrounded by sea foam,
crushed shells, and frosted sea glass
and I see three marine-blue runes circling
the hermetic cork with a lace ribbon tied around it in a bow,
the runes spell out rhymes of forgotten feelings,
and abandoned similes —
"Grab it, grab it," three newborn turtles coo,
coaxing me to seize the bottle as they wobble on past,
one by one into the palm of the sea
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 11:34 AM UTC
it sounds like falling in love
with the young man across
from me, sitting with tanned
skin and ***** blond hair,
trail-and-sun worn eyes, like
he's napped under lush flora
of the Azores, communed
with the native animalia,
and accepted as their king,
brave with a quiet stare —
squared, curious, virgin-maned,
strong hands idle during a summer moon
he, that tousled man
who sat across the hall
a hall that smelled like
sandy skin with diluted cleaning-
-ammonia and soap, stone-washed
and bleached, bleached I am
when I think of the pining
eyes that followed me with
a soft grin, slow words that
smell like falling in love
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 3:32 PM UTC
a cabriole over the lattice structure,
no rest, à la seconde—we turn and pirouette
I am ballerinas,
we move without metronome
trapped inside a crystal of time
infinite choreography
one left, the other right
a dark sequential arabesque, adagio—
allongé, arrière, we tap our heels
optical motion without energy
to shatter such time symmetry,
I choreograph non equillibrium—
so chassé, you then me—pulse and flip,
to the thud of our own drum
I am dancers shoved
into the spotlight of a sequential stage,
infinite repeated motion
we twirl along a chain of ytterbium
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 5:05 PM UTC
Narcissus lying lamely in the field
swaying with a horse's tail in the wind
I stop on the grass
a long mane
a warm sun
pollinate
yellow heat sizzles in its root
osmosis drags the ideas of its ancestors
up its stem, against gravity's desires
a turgor pressure
awake, auxin alive
bend towards the light
Narcissus, the wind pets and caresses
the mature petals and sepals, with a kiss
the gale in Wellen vaporizes its perfume
volatile
exposed in air
touch my nose
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 4:38 PM UTC
that royal beta carotene in my hands
it lies still, inhaling green and blue light
like cigarettes, breathing out rings of
bright orange, waves low and deep
oscillating field—disturbing, waking the medium
nothing shakes me from this trance
a beatific joy flows through my nerves
to know you, elusive root of bitterness,
is to see you, to see you is to observe you
to measure you—with a prism, in vacuum
just to witness what makes you, you
living and breathing beta carotene
closer and closer am I to the truth
of your vines, of your roots,
of your sinew, your foliage
what makes those anthocyanins shake and trill?
or your friends yellow? your cousin speckled?
delocalized and stretched, theoretical shapes
modelling your geometry, no matter your puzzles,
or how you hide your atoms under a web of electrons,
I'll accept this challenge
before the human race,
I will get to the truth
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 4:06 PM UTC
black crow on a mountain of a moss covered rooftop
watching me watching you
a steady predator, an equal competitor
in my drunkenness, a challenge and a nod
a tilt to the right, and your head follows
with your beak, you bow
slowly down low
tipsy my head stands higher and higher
with a smile, and a swig of cherry beer
you listen for the wind's call
and you take off
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 1:35 PM UTC
sliding, I'll wrap around your shoulders,
caught between your clavicles
and I'll lick my way up your neck
into your mouth, where I can stay
nestled between papillae
and listen to your being
oscillate through your bones
your nervous system, I feel,
I attune, I see what you want
everything, I hear the next cycles
of your body, your esophagus,
acid rises in your stomach,
I neutralize, as a buffer, I melt
into your membranes, I mesh with you
I slip into your bloodstream
I journey to your heart
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 11:45 AM UTC
swinging in waikiki
balancing on the surges
dancing with the water
sea foam fizzes in their faces
sliding across the hand of the pacific
surfing in hawaii, longboards in oahu
those clear summer swells
the sun is ripe, their shoulders burn
zinc titanium oxides on their necks
bronze terracotta gliding
the waves come to play, mahalo
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 1:55 AM UTC
kandinsky's purple floats around two lines
perpendicular, three points, finite
there's the square rushing to the fair-
-end of the yellow's sunny purple air
aureole glow, soft matter bends
a race to the finish line, focused intent
there, up there—a vinyl, a burning star
controlling and rolling kandinsky from afar
an artist's obsession: canvas geometry
let the maths and eunoias set every shape free
kandinsky's blue wants to rest on a radian
angles blur, paint spills—begin again
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 10:16 AM UTC