Proofs past midnight
Whisper-strokes,
I yearn to see your supple shape.
scent of mountain moonbeam,
woody, crisp edge
through air instantaneous
finding me in liminal glory.
losing myself, drowned in time;
floodgates, dams, cyclical enzymes,
aroma of life, decay, life.
whisper-touches
from the real world
into the artificial depths
unplunge me.
inversions of gravity,
at the center is a pin.
extrusion, ghostbone, aquifer of marrow,
I am summarized through this chaotic fount
of whisper-strokes
which I simply must see
in order to believe.
Written by
4/22/18
.
Photography by
Psiheya
.1 — "Cold Colors" [cropped]
2 — "About Flowers"
3 — "Crystal Eternity"
.
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