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Maria Mitea Aug 2020
Arid soil,

Clogging intercellular space

with habits of frozen lips,

and traps of death skin,

fine design camouflaged

in photonic crystals

refracting sun rays on fish’s scales,

solidified tears

in hail-stone milky rings

Colliding up and down

on dry bone scale

tempting to mould

the scaly topography.
I once
was a
tad yet
a little
smaller than
I was  
then a
man in
the madness
of the
heat I'd
foresee them
this tweet
or subsistence
was spite
that onsite
demagoguery triumph
annh Feb 2019
paint fell off the back
of a sky-high lorry - whoops!
splattered onto earth
16,000 feet below
5-7-5-7
annh Feb 2019
A velvet topography,
Of ridges and furrows,
Undulations of light and shade,
A land born of upheaval,
And tectonic collisions,
With a fault line for a spine.
The Alpine Fault is a geological fault that runs almost the entire length of New Zealand's South Island and forms the boundary between the Pacific Plate and the Indo-Australian Plate. [Wikipedia]
Denel Kessler Dec 2015
He follows
my topography
like a disciple
tracing contour lines
seeking
heaven within
he is the rapture
his devoted hands
take me there.
Amitav Radiance Feb 2015
My love
Glides over
The topography
Of your heart
Searching for
Pristine landscape
Where two
Souls can
Run wild
Under the
Starry canopy
Of dreams
Coalescing in
The sacred
Chambers of
Union
Kyle Kulseth Aug 2014
She's all Spring and Summer
                Strength
         and words of shelter
He's all maps and formlines
                    waits
        in wings for Springtime

Take these tattered ghosts
                    from their trenches
ink-smeared, tethered tight
                      to the depth curve
Autumn only waits for the silent
                       ones sometimes.

"If their voices chase
                   out the brisk months,
quiet those windy wights
                     with a new song.
Autumn only waits for the silent
                      ones," she said.

In 3/4 time
the distances unwind
so swiftly
Afterburn of quiet nights
                      glows, fading.

He's all sovereign anger,
               righteous, stiff
                      but twisting
She's all cavalier, now--
               cat-quick through
                   projections

Past the legends,
               rose our directions
Keyed to Winter's
                 dumb introversions
Years just spilling over the levee's
                         prescribed edge.

With their weathered ghosts
                           in the trenches,
tired-eyed, tethered tight
                          to the map's edge
Autumn only cares for the silent
                             ones some days.
calion May 2014
fingers- i landed my boat here, when i first met you. your fingers twirled together absentmindedly and they still do and i'm still get lost whenever i wander onto the dark beaches.
hands- i discovered these peninsulas when you pulled me along on your adventures after I landed on the beaches and they were so rough yet so wonderful and i honestly want to get lost here more often.
wrists- i found these a bit more on the mainland, still flanked by water and they were so narrow that i was afraid i would fall off into the water and i wonder how those thick colorful bracelets stay on.
cheeks- one day i wanted to go on a hike so i decided to climb up these steep mountains and whenever something beautiful sailed by you these beautiful red begonias popped up and i'm a little upset that i didn't make them pop up but i'm glad they didn't bloom around me because i got to see the natural red hills and i got to love them.

but i made a mistake because i never went south and maybe i would have gotten lost somewhere else more beautiful but if i went south, i wouldn't have found the beautiful pools that some call your eyes and that would've been the real loss.

— The End —