I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Heat excites the pan Olive oil forms a bright slick Floral ghosts kiss nose
By D. J. Reddall2 months ago in Poets
Nostalgia for the sweet, spousal swivel Moments when surprise synchronizes eyes Will yield, as the early blossoms shrivel
Never mind the center holding Who can discern a center in this malevolent maelstrom of madness? Avarice is our guiding angel
Bounty hunters are seldom in search of paper towels Satire should never be impossible Everything mundane has been painted with suspicion and terror
We must not allow Simple, polite gratitude To become extinct
Seeking a docile Obedient glutton for Boring punishment
We hate what we do Not understand well enough To simply enjoy
Things have been getting stranger recently Gunshots, sobbing, loud talk of ballrooms Bruised hands gesturing so suspiciously
A copy without an original I am compiled from crisp facsimiles A lovely simulacrum, virginal To vaults of data, I hold shining keys
Solitary hound Have you been abandoned or Have you found freedom?
Otherwise, however, would the tarantulas have it. “Let it be very justice for the world to become full of the storms of our vengeance”—thus do they talk to one another.
Beware those who serve And protect your oppressors They enjoy their work
