Here they are for this week.
Their words trace thin lines around
their various created lives
hoping to hold them together for a little bit longer
I yanked the tail of yarn – a cold detonation
That’s how I began to unravel the half-knit sweater
That’s how I told him our romance was over
I think we’re all going mad – Please! Not that joke again!
I think we’re all going glad – Suck it up and stop whining!
I think we’re all going clad – It’s a no to the dress-optional party!
mountains quake desolations fret and split
the people run in fear
the infinities smile. it has all happened before.
the pen that wrote out this invitation to lunch
in the bright green ink of homicidal jealousy –
is it sending you a hint? Think about it.
huge and rumbling
the star glowers and then explodes
cartwheeling across the sky
Our truculent feelings float around us
in a messy haze
A good laugh clears them all away
the electrical soundtrack of
the fridge and dishwasher hum a buzzy harmony –
Duet in the kitchen
The oxygen she breathes
into this metal tube and
music comes out! Magic!
On top of each limited option
rests a heavy-handed edict
discouraging a new theory. Until I come along.
and with life’s last big puzzle still unsolved
why can’t you learn to turn out the lights when you leave the room?
she pins together the story she evolves the alias
with no material other than a pink umbrella and
a sullen footsore crowd at a bus stop
a startled blue pear
rescued by two pigeons
weak with laughter
The morning saga of going to work
grief and insurrection
tamped down by a strong cup of coffee
Five workdays a week
The conversion of the smell of tonight’s dinner
into the sharp rot
of leftovers three days later in the trash can
the night was full of
raw ripe melodies
that set the inner delirious loose
You say you have here the
exciting official documents about kelp?
What, about kelp?
What about kelp?
2 thoughts on “Little Vines 4/27/22”
I don’t think we’ve ever had to toss leftovers…
5787. Someone I know here who fits this.
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