Tuesday, August 25, 2026

( via/ via )

Meet Invisible Sex. (thread)

"We live in an old chaos of the sun." —Stevens

14 vowel sound poem.

(first fytte)

purple sun in a green sky
sweep of ogre seasons
this hazy morn mild & feldspar
motions of a dire poison

smoking hot heart-smithy
yet small effect shekelwise
invasion cards cryptic
crystal in retrospect

lavender clouds laden
with long withered songlines
yesterdays guest-gathered
one gust wrung from dung heap

travel means concern-tryst
almost trackless smackdown
follow the true fuel cell
affordances half-baffled

only from this lean land
headlights on at dread noon
monuments to weird winds
monsoon saga logjam

pickle chips my pocket
perishing shore story
Stetson from a stiff shelf
Asterion umgang

uphill walking homeward
herald of smoke broken
answer in the onset
ever same & devilled

pastel still but darkening
groundstalworth solitude
you leave little book piles
a breeze flutters bloodshot

world we will snarl on
wares we believe in
bluefaced strangers strung out
on stern wrong alphabets

purple sun in a green sky

(Continued here.)

The Little Garden of Walahfrid Strabo. Online. In Huysmans. Another version, 1966 (with complete facsimile).

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