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the Obituary of a Bullfrog-the Obituary of a Bullfrog
As a pubescent I would abduct bullfrogs and assassinate them,
periodically
placing them
within a blooming flame where they would burst,
but most often
propelling them against a partition of fired mud and mortar.
I was awed
by the anatomy flecking, often freckling me
with an ample mist of amphibious heart
or brain or head.
Now being older,
I hunger to become
the bullfrog,
to be flung alive
into a bustling blue flame,
by !warblytwitflizz
landing zonesuddenly! she explains, a bed of dahlias is flattened by a failing pilot.landing zone
by `ignite
blue sky Pilotsblue sky Pilots
of blue sky Pilots draw their breath white
lines Crossing the calm
we measure distances In lungs
shaped like a plane spread
against same ozone
these years To last for miles
by ~myloveliestsequence
no less the fatherwe tie aloft within the knots. sullen. lay the winds.no less the father
your face is scribbling pink. "is there
anything i can draw for you
if drawing needs contend"
?
out of paper we grow spreading
"white roses untie if drying is un-wrung"
drawing we take and speak.
"can taking spend where took
once went"
?
and wait for break.
my spider wearing low the years that we once spent. low the blink
and flattened tent. low haze. low blow. puckered fly at buttoned gaze .
flail
by ~violetsnowground
Hill-WaitingThe hills are waiting, cold and waiting. The hills are cold and waiting. Cold and tall and straight and waiting.Hill-Waiting
Not for me to climb, too tall: so tall and waiting, high and close and waiting, cold.
Distant waiting; far and cold, the hills are shining smiling perfect teeth: oh, so far gone in distance.
We are smooth and separate, smoothly separate.
I do not own the hills.
by *jahg
"Marvelous"-"Marvelous"
a waning light and i saw them dropping, little speckled ones that, in the dimming,
burst they did
and became spread then ran syrupy
the white, but
the yellow sat and wavered, holding,
barely.
and when the skunk began to lick and lap it wasn’t sure
where the eggs came from so it looked high
and saw a treetop and a snake and the skunk said “Marvelous”
then ate and
the snake there
knocking a nest had it watch another egg fall. &nb
by !warblytwitflizz
failed attempt at an Apology-failed attempt at an Apology
sorry,
the song
of an air
conditioner; despair.
“Won’t this thing go any faster?”
the rubber burns
the wind takes
to churn
such an assembly of chaos makes flatten one monarch,
or several.
what a mustard
powder on the grille,
with one wing
like a butterfly flag,
flapping,
and one bent antennae left like a stupid radio.
-
by !warblytwitflizz
In the Year of Our Lord 1921Aug. 2 Two weeks out.In the Year of Our Lord 1921
This far north the sun barely touches the horizon before it rises again.
No wind now for three days.
We have not seen the skipper since friday night, but we can hear him screaming from his cabin: "The sea has many gods!"
The sea is oddly calm; his voice carries for miles.
Aug. 13 No fish.
This morning we dragged up the bloated corpse of a sea lion. The first mate stared long at its body before he decided that it was not a mermaid and we threw it back overboard
by `xork
depleting the Winged-depleting the Winged
them the black spermfish
gorge, gorge.
them resembling
man's semen only soon till lose them tail
entirely to grow legs like seeds
planted on the body
appropriately;
a disintegrating
limb, a tale
of nothing
nourishing
at waste
this spring.
look now
how tongue muscle
t
by !warblytwitflizz
I am stumped Mister saplingwhat sparing words and sympathyI am stumped Mister sapling
as my history
he spoke to me, said I am
the onliest hickory:
that lesser
than a gobbling of wire,
that fraying
the city's utility and saw
to feast on a star.
by !warblytwitflizz
Distances greater than oceansAnd thunder! Count the mile from flash to booms, the scudding stars obscured by rain. My gut predicts my whether; drafts in darkened rooms glance past; the screens of eyelids shudder shut.Distances greater than oceans
If I could close the yawning waters, test my melting lips upon your stormcloud brow, electric fingers skimming down your chest, if I could shrink the sea to reach you now,
I’d stay, to see if planets, moon, and sun will cycle me to you. My brain hints wait, as for
by `SparrowSong
Western Haiku 02Western Haiku 02
The train rides empty it creates the wind, you see. O, whisper to me.
by ~aaaaaaaahhhh
And Then What?And Then What?And Then What?
I liked being short. I would sit
On my daddy’s knee and he’d
Bounce me. The stairs were
Vast mountains and I was there To climb them. My mummy
Would tuck me in every night
After I had struggled into my Train engine pyjamas. The TV Would entertain me. I could go
To Andrews house whenever I Wanted to without ringing up. We would play in the garden.
My nanny would sing me songs From Slovakia and I would try To sing them back to her. I
Would work and laugh at the Same time. The playgro
by ~FrederickNeeds
good weather for fishing.good weather for fishing
He thinks it is good weather for fishing. The second woman
with old hair and powder made from crushed seashells sips swamp water from the mouth of the man with a flat Crow nose and he culls her hair with hands, not his alone, turning her neck into a cornstalk leaning, whispering “Bia, Bia”.
He tells the other one, in stockings rolled to her ankles, that the Whip-poor-will was out last night halving babies from moonstones, into the dirt they come from. And yes, he saw the fox swallowing
by ~WhoKilledKirov
bloody historyiii. my nose is bleeding againbloody history
for the third time this week and childhood fears leak out
with polished memories
i. a nine year-old boy giving a dinner lecture on
the mummification proce
by ~zphoenixdownz
BirdsBirds pace and jig the lawn at sunrise.Birds
(Feather jitter habit) Jawing the numb ants and seeds or just bobbing.
They are noble how they stare Chests puffed dainty legs. All air and buoyancy, quick sharp beasts.
Dappled in the up sun.
by ~Unundelirium
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