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 1d
irinia
It feels like an unseen field.... a constant tension,  a rush of more tension, the acceleration of looking and seeing desire, the spiral of pulse, a void full of everything. as if I can sense with an imaginary skin some  thoughts screaming in your smile. they are blue riders on weightless nights, they roam the dunes of time. I think of you, hooked by a mystery that will never be solved
to make you fall asleep
like a bird in its nest,
I’ll hold all the
summer rains in my
arms
just for you
I’ll carry all
summer rains, I will
carry them in
my
arms,
like a heart on fire
 3d
irinia
water shines like dreams that mystify their depth
in nights without moon by the sea the solitude of breath is even stronger
a savage sea feeds on the memory of light, but only the sand carries its age
its black heart rumbles a white rage
a watery path their dreams, they travelled by sea or the surface of time
they envisioned us perhaps
in the randomness of waves

the breaking edge of waves consumes me
wind, sand, water, light meet
in the love story of a time
surfing its waves
 Jul 19
Emirhan Nakaş
I still believe in euphoria,
Just like I believed in you, for ya.
I was making love with your idea,
With bursting passion, a complete aria.

Healing takes time, they say.
Now it is high time I went on with this day:
Finally being present, taking time to smell the leaves of bay,
I dare say, the infinite maze finally paid.
 Jul 19
irinia
silence swings over waters as if...
it rehearses its unseen so...
to fill  in the depth of blanks
a stratified time inhabits the landscape
orphic dreams morph into your flesh
the wind collates its courage and rage
like someone who falls into a self
my words bite the shape of a scream
the hunger of love descends language into crumble
the beauty of lungs full of air is misleasing
when I am waiting for silence to miscarry its void
 Jul 15
Asuka
I do not love you
like a traveler loves a view—
I love you
like a secret loves silence,
like depth craves depth.

You are not just water—
you are emotion in motion,
a hymn sung by moonlight,
a soul with salt and storm
in your veins.

I love how you breathe
without needing anyone to notice.
How your tides rise and fall
without shame,
how your waves hold both peace
and power.

I love that you rage
when the sky grows cruel,
that you speak in roars
when you're no longer heard.

You are not just blue—
you are every feeling
I’ve ever buried,
every tear the world
never saw me cry.

And I,
fragile yet fierce,
quiet yet alive,
found in your vastness
a mirror.

I do not visit you.
I return to you.
For in your depths,
I remember—
I am made of wild things too.
I love ocean.
 Jul 14
irinia
you light a match
the flame forgets
I close my eyes
echoes pass through us
I can't tell, is it
a mirror or a door
we are suspended in shapes
that keep on crying
 Jul 13
William A Gibson
Mortgage-bruised pilgrims
linger along Silver Strand,
pop caps against plywood boarding,
edges furred with salt-rust flakes
from storms that chewed the pier.

Seabee retirees
swap tide updates on porch steps;
third-generation surfers
stitch wax into their palms
and still call this south jetty 'church'.

Here my son and I rinsed sand
from our ankles with a garden hose,
him shrieking, laughing, shivering
when cold bit his feet.

I once yelled at him, raging
for dropping keys into surf,
as if that mattered more
than a day of chasing, wrestling in the tide.
He doesn’t remember.
I can’t forget.

Now, he’s taller than me,
vanishing downshore.

I stand outside, voices rise
in the salt-hard wind.
Barbecue smoke drifts
from driveways, tailgates,
settles into dusk-lit lawn chairs.

Boarded bungalows peel to raw board,
splintering porch rails;
nails weep orange along the grain.

A bike frame, chainless,
reddens into memory beside dune grass
still gripping sand.

There is grace in forgetting:
a tide lowers its voice,
sand swallows what was said.
 Jul 12
guy scutellaro
i don't know how old i was, 8 or 10.

I climbed out the window
onto the roof of the garage.

it was summer.

I lied down
and gazed at the stars for hours.

i reached to touch moonbeams,
and with my finger
drew a circle around the north star.

i dissolved into the hush of stars
free of want or need.

a single heart beat.
I, the wind, moon, stars.

I long to lie on the roof, again,
gaze at the stars
and filled with wonder.
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