Immersion Trench Reverie

Barely heard A moan drifts up From a lower world The scent of wet ice Either a cattle farm Great mundane pleas from moonlit vats Of mud Some stirring of the blood Old alpine pang Or a crevice wail Broken leg song Lichen undernail A life of skin A blue so dark he will go blind A moan drifts up Bile on the breath of spring A silent swiss funicular On unlit rails Passes through dense wood smoothly Crosses the meadow And finds me Through a gap between the molding And the pane

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 26, 2025

Blue as blue As oil paint As trim around the cedar door He touched the ceiling in his helicopter Once a day And made it to his cedar bed Exalted, bald And keening like a royal bird That nobody should see him anymore The dark flash of an airplane on the sun Crickets pulled a midday thread Behind his ears And made it bright The crops ballooned and split Untouched Red tubes and seeds Black paper Blue as blue As oil paint As damselflies below the cedar floor

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 26, 2025

The day’s lung held full Shrillness in the heated grass Collapsing on his hunting stool Seed shells like a radiance The oligarch flanks his tent Salted thistle in his throat To the family Keep the mansion dark and Full of leaves For this Nest against the tent The day’s lung held full Shrillness in the heated grass Was where the ghosts lined up The physics of the carpet pain The coldest depth along the stream The darkest blue above the ridge Collapsing on his hunting stool Seed shells like a radiance But how the day refused to breathe

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 26, 2025

Overnight Or was it not Green ragged cloth had fallen On the path The way I took had velvet on the horns I peered straight through And saw the shrinking frame Collapse and bloom And choke on its vast ornate teeth I would cry out If it were not so late I do not remember you Perfect sphere Chlorine smell Painting that was damaged in the hold Imagine that a propane tank When squarely struck Becomes a bell Yet huddles by the driveway in the cold

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 26, 2025

Forgot the dream that led me to the cane But how the rattle tempts me Wide and scraping Sit and dry Make mica on your skin Divide your forearm Like a stack of yellow news Muscovite sheath Thick billfold fray New glinting slots the sun can breach The cane flares open Just before a hill I see the bronze plate water Gleaming Flawed like pollen settled and was cast A spectrum frozen flat Upon the gleam Now gold has turned to black Frogs pierce the ear I’m in the cane Forgot the dream that led me here

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

Born in the shade I know what I am Hard head brimming with pine and gold The shade Like mud in a river fish Cannot be rinsed away A breeze in the dark room I know what the field mouse Startled Split with a scythe Knew of his own blood In the tear to the bright edge When the strange tree that catches the Eye among all others Moves in a trance In almost no wind Some fatal grain undone I know what I am

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025