Above its domes the gulfs accumulate.
Far up, the sea-gales blare their bitter screed:
But here the buried waters take no heed—
Deaf, and with welded lips pressed down by weight
Of the upper ocean. Dim, interminate,
In cities over-webbed with somber weed,
Where galleons crumble and the krakens breed,
The slow tide coils through sunken court and gate.
From out the ocean’s phosphor-starry dome,
A ghostly light is dubitably shed
On altars of a goddess garlanded
With blossoms of some weird and hueless vine;
And, wingéd, fleet, through skies beneath the foam,
Like silent birds the sea-things dart and shine.
Atlantis (1912) – Clark Ashton Smith
Label this one “Box Camera Photos Taken While Dreaming”.
I remember it as if it was yesterday, I took the old box camera with me beyond the fields we know to where the dreams border the fable farms and faerie courts ramble in the moon glens.
The boughs of the synchronicity willows were heavy with fruit. The Abstraction Spheres were swollen and ripe. They drifted down , leaving a scented trail of moebius strips. Bobbing up and down, they hung in the air vibrating to the music of the faerie as they played.
Dancers spin wild delight
rhythms of Morpheus weave shadow-spheres
colours twist to musicians’ magics
spell -hoard , crystal strings sing,
soul-anchor slides into the depths,…….
Where was I,…. ah yes, just place them over there next to The Mirror of The Martian Muse and The Unicorn Tail Rug.