Tag Archives: Possibilities

GUEST POST // Tairngreacht by Whitecatgrove

The last hum of summer — I hunger
for more, a kinder year when all is not
withered on the vine. The burning boats
are not a kind sun, the wildfires are not
the butterfly migration. The cup
poured out again, by an unjust king
emptied and spent on wasted earth. Red
the riders to the house of red, red
the naked spirit who knocks on the door.
What a time to live — seeing a myth
paid in full, embodied and poured out
in a sea without fish, a summer
without fruit, a land without justice.

by WHITECATGROVE
© All rights reserved 2026

GUEST POST // Twinkle, Twinkle by Whitecatgrove

O south star through the trees seen — where are
your kin on this flustered night? Hidden,
shy, sequestered in the sky above
the cooling clouds and their sparkling motes.

The half-empty moon has tipped his cup,
let the dregs fall upon the slumbered Earth.
We travel from darkness to darkness,
the light intermittent, inconstant,

afflicted with mighty tracts of void.
Your perturbations are a matter
of atmosphere: that is to say, Earth,
not that mighty glare on the other side

of time. We are phantoms: you of the past
long-dissipated, me of the future
yet unimagined, each tender view
occluded by ice crystals and chance —

by WHITECATGROVE
© All rights reserved 2026

lungpipe shanty

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to breathe freely
to expand in every moment
my view beyond the horizon
has taught me to get drunk on air
raise a toast to the blissful life
uncork & exhale my dreams
& inhale all possibilities

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me not to hie away
from each rum quaff of oxygen
each gulp, each gasp, could be the last
has taught me to square my shoulders
wear my sailor’s crown on high
walk the plank with a shambler’s jaunt
use my voice with ne’er a grumble

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to sing shanties
to marinate beneath the stars
away from landlocked bores
has taught me to stand before storms
to know my place within them all
when even acid rain stings my lungs
when even the mast punches my lungs

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

willspring

the puddle you plapped on through
were once a well e’er tranquil deep
still i spared your feelings sheer
tho’ none allowed me tend my own

were we running out of time
to cultivate me with you
or are you glad i’m gone now
to bare horizons me bestrewed

the inner guts of my skull
once a hill of bones replete
a place you called golgotha
now one through iris shone with hope

i fear we have had our time
to cultivate the me from you
must confess i’m gladness gone
to horizons tilled rain bestrewed

sometimes things don’t work out
once thought it ne’er would for me
& sometimes you have to leave
before the seed can dare to bloom

know there can be no more time
feel the inner guts of my will
gone to build me a new home
to far horizons hum bestrewed

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

mariana

one day the currents will turn around
the waters will carry the ocean floor
the foam will meet the impossible sky
make rainclouds in the realm of angels

vociferous sirens will hymn to gods
rake their tails o’er thorny sea stars
and soldier crabs will one day return
in battalions from know-not-where

it’s all rolling away
into much stranger days
and the deeper trenches
of mariana

splendour sand kingdoms will rise and fall
leave wet traces of their past greatness
folded into eddies of possibility
many of which ne’er before conceived

whole universes to curl into shell
that i press so gentle to your tiny palm
a nautilus distillation of dreams
a whispering promise of endless scenes

it’s all rolling away
into much stranger days
and the deeper trenches
of mariana

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024