Stubs of straw spurt into a beige mat. Plants wither, reaching up a fence, roots pulled. The breeze is plush and cool. Eyes blur, and heatwaves wiggle. Flying low, a darnerfly assesses the damage. Undulations circulate through leaves and branches. As muscles relax into the evening, a soreness is noticed, sinking into a demi-relief, that is somehow better. There’s a purr from the traffic. Empty, pensive thoughts circulate with deep breaths. Oxygen tastes like ripe melon.
Phantom creep beneath
dresser drawers, the nightstand.
The scent of charcoal.
Sensation of a gentle mist.
A screw rolls on the floor.
Flat silence: filled with traffic.
Headlights stripe the walls.
Leaves pass lore through shudders.
Hey, if I could get your help for a moment.
I wanted to start making some Zines. Are there any poems you guys think I should see about using?
I could even use one of you guys’ if you’d like. Would prefer using my own, just ’cause I know it better.
Would be super grateful for your input. : )
Sifting through what I thought were my bones, my structure, to realize they are but plastic formed from molds. Discovering my foundation, when all I ever knew was artificial. The flesh, tendon, muscle is relieved. It finally feels as if it can grasp reality and form. Now, to regrow a thick skin.
He was a pancake.
Maple syrup tastes good. Wait.
Was hit by a car.
Listless. Eyes float focus. White. Grey. Procrastinating in movement.
A cloud consumes the head. Mouth open: filled with vapor. Humid, lukewarm. Throat is filled with air bubbles. Summer nights. Dull silence. Eyes are stretched to full open, but deny it. Claiming to be closed. Dust settles.
A craken has seeped its tendril into the spine. He rips it from its place. Spots patten the spinal column. Remanance. It pulled him to the deep. Grounded into the sand beneath the navy waters. An anvil.
He eases to the surface. A first breath from a long time.