can you describe this beautiful photo taken by (c)Ankh Spice better than Ankh?
“a thousand miles of grey wind-calved mountains on a veil-world, material for a sorcerer’s armour, fallen bits of storm-sky, shoals of glass sharks” -Ankh Spice
” a seascape – choppy, restless pewter sea in endless unbroken waterpeaks. Long dark hills brood sleeping-dragonry alon gthe horizon, a split of orange dawn/dusk firing down the spine. The rest of the sky is exhaled smoke, beginning to tint around the ember” – Ankh Spice
Waveforms by Lesley Curwen
wavelets / chins tipped / hold sun’s embrace squirrel grey in livid rays/ their ranks of open lips mouth sweetness/ at the eye of dusk no swimmers here/ to rip their harlequin silk to shreds/ of light ashore/ sole-prints are shadowed/ by day’s ebbing gold/ to be immersed in crosshatched expanse of tide/ whose basketwork convexities/ suck land’s mauve loom below/ a quilt of cumulus a haiga description from Mo Schoenfeld light slips, struggling, night laps at the mountain top, darker depths settle. I framed a portrait for an absentee by Sam Hickford Here is a cranny for you to seize, my love, among the volcanic strait of smoke-stung cloud.. will you take it, as the wagtail claps this wreath of Autumn, makes this land its vow? As each trilled wavelet furnishes a mountain for a chalk-board dreadnought to a droughtless word, come. I watch the ocean’s opiate break mirrors in the champion of its lens and picture you cradled in these hues of fire and lazuli and scarlet shards. Shores of Safe Distance by Robin McNamara When we divide our words between a stanza with image-filled meanings and one with an abstraction of reality not easily deciphered/ do we need anything more than the acceptance of our verses read by the judgmental or do we find our oars and paddle out a bit further; into deep waters of thoughts, without a compass. With only the stars to navigate a way to your account of my words. What if I drowned, what if the storms of uncertainty was too much, what would wash up upon the shores? A body of work beautifully polished by the waves or a piece of driftwood? Would you tread water to find our existence, or would the stones under your feet compel you to go back and stare at the ocean from a distance and say; maybe another time. That's All Folks by Elizabeth Cusack The sky is burning— It’s not exactly news— It’s been this way since I was born. There was an egg before akasha, If you care about language, And there was the ein sof, If you care to read that tongue, And there was an egg before the chicken— This is very hard to grasp, It has ruined paradise, This inability to understand, The great unknown was once one, And all multiplicities someday will blow apart. A prophet comes along once in a while And says, this is what it’s all about— all is one, Call it love or whatever makes you smile, But the fact is we are killing every one, And as we come and go, And as we kill our mother, And read our revelations, The steel-grey cable under the sea Is recording every absurdity, And as we remember the essential dead poets— Remember what, exactly? That everybody who ever lived is now here! James Joyce got it in the Wake, And they mocked him As they do every damned prophet— All the condemned are on this ride As we read up on Aleister Crowley, As we are on this burning earth, As we read revelations from the dead And martyred who died for clarity— And don’t forget Stalin, Mao, and old Paul— And as we drink the soma and submit when we are called, We remember the ones who saved our lives— Thank you to the poets, that we have a mind at all! That is the final thing they will try to take from us all. STRUGGLING by Spriha Kant Kaleidoscopic dreams float like amorphous clouds and the hopes shine like the sun in her psyche. Stuck amidst the turbulent eddies trying to drown her in the stygian abyss she keeps the waves of her mind, heart, and actions synchronously tranquil for she is as vulnerable as a fire in the water who can’t dare to rebel against her inner voice ordering her to achieve something that will raise the eyebrows and open the mouth wide of the pessimistic commentators. Links to some work of a few of the poets: