which was mostly able to limp
past the so-called wild-west phase but
never could embrace what one would
term civilization before
receding from the record, though
I am but a gala priest junior class
entrusted with certain songs who
with the ensi of this small state
have tried to add aspects of fig
and poppy to the flowering
of new tongues in the time of our
collapse as the wind chooses which
syllables will supply the feast and what
may one day pass to other voices
Tag: wind
-
-
In February
IIIII
I sat on the couch with a little dog pressed against me as she sighed and licked and twitched and ran and slept and stretched. I can hear the clanking of the ships in the marina in my memory. I feel like I’m going in three directions and locked in place. I am enjoying a small glass of dragon well. I am trying to log out of certain sites as a means of slowing the waste. I hear the wind and check the weather app. I want to be honest, to a point. I want to play Skyrim rather than read The Satyricon. I see the Canterbury Tales hasn’t moved. I love a Sailor nib. I have checked my email, even though I didn’t want to. I think there are things I’d like to say to you that I’d instantly regret. I instantly regret and then again and again throughout eternity and back and back. I think I need more projects or fewer projects or different projects. I enjoy the afternoon light unless I’m trying to watch TV. I can hardly bear the profundity of my many sagacious remarks. I was listening for it for a long time. I am pleased that that anger has so far not consumed me as it seemed it might. I may give up trying to find the right word. I feel a sensation like warm jelly gently jiggling as it cools near this chakra. I’m surprised by how terrible and beautiful my handwriting can be. I suppose that goes for most things. I suppose I should do something about it. I think it feels accurate and like a cheat. I wonder if this project has reached its conclusion. I wonder if it will ever find its true and needed form. I was thinking of calling it I, ai ai, but thought that might either seem silly or pretentious, but we’ll see. I wouldn’t say yes, even if she found a way to be nice about it. I know I’m to blame as well but I won’t say that publicly right now. I am prepared to go without for much longer than you would guess. I got used to having no one and now I feel suspicious of every face. I don’t know how much longer I can. I am sure I’ve said this before. I’m running out of steam, and enriched uranium, but I have plenty of dark matter. I wanted to buy that Hello Kitty fountain pen, but I cannot understand why. I suppose the minutiae of one life could be enough to build some kind of something or whatever. I think the dog only wanted some company this morning. I wonder if I’m just writing down my stray thoughts rather than building a poem. I was thinking of the Lords of Death and how they triumph and how the twins defeat them. I suppose we will never know since all those priceless works were destroyed by our idiot ancestors. I imagine they will say the same thing of us in a few hundred thousand years if we run into some very good luck.
afternoon, Canterbury, couch, dog, dragon well, february, fountain pen, Hello Kitty, Lords of Death, marina, memory, nib, Sailor, Satyricon, ships, Skyrim, tea, weather, wind
-
No more fireworks just instructions
in a language in the shape
of a forgotten snake or
a hope for a better harvest
though with our dried plans nowburied how but I stood for far
too long the brittle hunger of
wind taking bits of the
but what exactly wentwrong and why did our words
fail to move it even an inch
when we were told to draw a lineunder the bubble inside the
stale loaf our last tooth would not bite
-
Do we have time to unlearn the
first frown and move on? I really
don’t want to bite your nose off. It’s
just that I haven’t slept well since
Reagan and like clockwork a blackooze rises to cover far too
much and did I mention my back
shoulder knee and oh I did well
we’ll leave that and look down at thesilver city where there may yet
be room as many claim and though
our souls are quite used to otherterrains we must try as each moment fails
to return or else another foul wind
-
fetid wind from the belch of the cave
dweller’s Tupperware(First published in The Pan Haiku Review.)
other animals 