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harlon rivers Dec 2017
Gray Owl hearkens
the dappled daybreak knell
echoing through
the wildwood forest stand;
rock doves and frosty stones abide,
where a marooned heart doth dwell,
disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch

Timber stand grips tight
red clay and bedrock of ages,
postured tall and strong
as eagle's spirit throne

Pine cones hide
in the low drifting clouds,
ripe acorns tumble down alone
unto  a  windblown
shallow earthen grave,
hillocked  beneath
the sky-high canopy

Bones of branches,
furrowed bark from burled oak,
wood-grains of pith,
natural gnarled achings
peeled by the shivering
wind's breath

Paling autumn memories
grow dim as the receding sunlight,
recollections of ebbing Jasmine's
mellowing fragrant balm
waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy,
the edge of winter metamorphosis
bears down with a prodigious weight
of a different kind of retreating light;

brindled Queen Anne's lace
hold sway across
the tawny frostbitten meadow
imbuing the poignantly
whetting breeze

The blink of an eye winks,
to catch sight of
an intimate glimpse,
an unspoken
solitude holds forth,
the mesmerizing coo of rock doves,
reverently mirroring
the sanctity of the forest wildwood
lingering amongst the frosty
ferns and stones

The harmony of tranquil silence wanders;
only the bowing resistance of the boughs
manifest the shapeless wind’s
whispered  breathe
swirling above the labyrinth threshold;

therein lies an unfractured fault line
rooted deeply beneath
the earth’s crust
like the sonorous heart
of a sanctuary hearthstone

Hence there is symmetry
felt in silence that only whispers
in the deep toned consonant
of our own harbored sighs

a holy human blood link
born of  heritage wilderness heartwood
beats keenly alive


written by:   harlon rivers ... December 2017
Notes: Midwinter orifice into the North-woods

Thank you for looking through a soul's portal at winter solstice
Emma Aug 2010
I am a runaway train
loose and accelerating
cascading down into oblivion
metallic scraping breaking twist and
I meld with the ground from the sky
no brakes to stop me now
no brain to feel regret, no soul
I am manufactured, fake
a product
I never had a heart to begin with.

Is this freedom?
Breaking away from my steel track
cutting a new path into the earth
leaving plastic bodies broken in my wake
They have no brain to feel regret, no soul
they were manufactured, fake
a product
They never had a heart to begin with.

I dream of nature pure
a soul unfractured
the fall of the factory
alas
the system only lusts
for efficiency, obedience,
uniformity
we are machines
ignorant of natural law.

All we know is fresh-baked plastic
served through metal bars with a smile
the system only lusts
there is no
love.
From what is known of the antiquity that occurred in optics, it is in the divine anger against the apostasy, towards the interval of the elliptical of the signal that became phenomenal, and it figured in eternal natural causes that feverish the world that is not held. From this refraction, morality overcame the ambage of delaying the dominions of divinity, and its order that delegated the centralized perspective of taking seconds away from creation, which became antagonistic to its own substance. Men enclose themselves in their cracks that are parts of their mistakes, and their roots evoking changes that are the sequence of the Peri Kosmous, as if our sins were dimensioned with the reference that the individual lives in a transferred meteor, and not in Gaia herself, who became unbalanced even in the psychic movements that unleash the wrath of earthly earthquakes. Clairvoyance embraces the meteorite and the earth emits cries, almost mooing that are comparable to Vernarth's Mycetias that he announced to them so as not to be hypnotized by the scattering of the cobra, which enveloped them with its epithets.

The reaction was triggered by the prognosis of Marie des Vallées, even the impossibility that with this transfigured fire of Hephaestus he would make the architecture of a new Áullos Kósmos, before the possibility that everything would succumb under the seal of a premonitory sign and not of a real one. event or hecatomb. Divine historiography points out that the prodigy of a Mega Seism is the epitaph of attracting sufferers in a Parnassus, which is the true Gehenna that carries the higher ranks of the Delos Seism, comparable to the minuscule physics that squared the beneath the moon ones, of the Propylaea of ​​the world where the earth was dressed before being element and delimited in its borders. The earth was packed over forceful and fictitious mountains that became simplistic and naive for this foundation that had no reversible cause coming from rains, which filled the deep steam chambers re-expelling gases intermingled with high-ranking underground heat waters.

The seismic shaking of the rough land begins, which was withdrawing from the empty places where the water that came crossed from the high seas over the smaller ones that were churning on the semi-flooded coasts, to then burst the torrential rains that did not stop falling to the sink into the crevices from where the exhalations began. The celestial spheres rotated in the opposite direction and their friction exerted electromagnetic changes before the hydrosphere that was weathering behind the Kosmous before the irregular voids of the impassive stars. The assertion of hyper relente was contrasted with the hyper fieryness, making the reactions of the inhabitants of the isolate faster than the final action of the phenomena that emptied from their interior with the great fury of the Metelmi, which took the forms of fireballs. gasified. The continuous blowing of Wonthelimar and Vernarth managed to give them the time to confine the exhalations of the currents that filtered through the middle of the islet, already totally flooded, leaving the cavernous pores, given by the Eoloanemoi, winds which brought some floating species from the Hellespont. The narrowness of will became porous before the recent winds, when the divinity urged them to save themselves by the suction cups of the icy cold that made them hold each of the hands, then follow the flows of the free spaces without being damaged by the cavities that were seized by the palpitations of the new aftershocks, after the rigidity of the spasms that softened the earth and the hardened mass between clouds that were announced to the interior of the earth, to give a stumble of time to approach the stymphalos. There were thunderous noises that were increased by the force of the aggressive wind, carrying solid objects that compacted the masses into multiple unrecognizable shapes as the earth roared at the speed of the blink of an eye. The epicenter was carried from the seabed to the surface, making the authorship of ****** earth hit by unknowable and inextricable flows, to the point of an orbit that was already exhaling airly, to abandon its spent ****** in the unfractured that detailed the Peri Kosmou by subtracting from their degree of intensity and then regressing their intensity in rows of smokes that managed to see themselves from the top of Profitis Ilias, when they saw them from their apparent comparison.
Hellespont Waft
Jeff Claycombe Mar 2015
an unfractured innocence
reflecting a casual future
spin-cycle
pulsating anxiety plaguing
shaky eyes
preferring the lids closed
grind away
tighten that noose
almost got me
before an angel cut it loose
elevated, exhilarated
nearly touched a cloud
then tumbled to the ground
finally, that lucid moment
when the right piece of wisdom resonates
i look up
thankful for what each day brings
heeding the warning of icarus
and opening my wings
5/15/13
marin Feb 2018
how do you            drag your finger nails down the shores of the
blistered beach     fully knowing lines exist,
only for seconds between moments holding onto notions that
dead things can survive

over and over you become a number in the many marks left unrecorded
sometimes
  unfractured for the beats when waves don’t reach their target.

x-ray the sand implant layers of what preceded - you - impose meaning on
all the drawings you couldn’t find
faking citations to forge        truth-beaten signs
Foxgopher Mar 2019
Twenty-seven and it's all unraveled
Nothing makes any ******* sense
I can be sorry for hours
Invalid, unless I repent

Chance missed me, I waved
I'd rather let it pass me by untouched
For those I've wronged, disappointment
For myself, I prefer unfucked

Wallow, complain, whatever it is
Nights alone and you're right there
The skull unfractured, inside a blender
The blanket unravels, leaving bare.

— The End —