Nary a storm cloud, though I do feel quite shitty.
It’s never the weather that turns me this way,
though cold and damp conditions certainly help.
The thought of a feather scraping through the air
in a constant updraft–dropped by a vulture
as it circled around suspected prey–calms me,
tells me the world has its order, its reason to live,
and if I can’t accept that, I’m buzzard bait.
Category: Poetry
Catchin’ Up
I’ve got a large sum
of belated brain burps,
destined to come out
whenever they’re meant to be.
Today will show why
poems carry the mind
through the twisted gates
of the soul’s indefinite struggle.
NaPoWriMo: Day 4
Stalling media circuses smell like grandiose gestures made for clowning, not
necessarily a healthy way to spend your last fifty cents. Though most agree
with those policies, I figure one fish against the current can’t do much,
unless it plugs itself into the wrong end of the influential vacuum, cutting
off its own air supply to free all its kind from a straight march forward
through nothingness–they can veer, spin and smack fins at the novelty of
free motion. The preconceived pathway vanishes before their eyes, and to
their amazement, they may putter along in any old direction, even the one
from which they came! The more sentimental creatures return to the scene
of the crime, their once vital friend limp, head still serving as a cork–
precedent and history, its friends give thanks and praise, as is proper.
NaPoWriMo: Day 3
I had a few stubborn teeth
as a cub scout-aged kid
that threatened never to come out.
My dentist took X-rays
of my overbiting jaw
when I was nine [going on ten]–
I lack several adult teeth
from the day I was born,
so the next logical step
would be to pull out those
orphaned, anchoring pearls
before they fused to the bone.
NaPoWriMo: Day 2
toe chunk gone:
smells like pizza now
every day [every day]
until it scabs up
a helmet– [A HELMET]
bounce off, infection!
like bullets
across the grey sky
traveling, [traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling]
consummate servants;
happiness [happinessssssss]
means target’s been hit.
NaPoWriMo: Belated 1st Day
Late, and it’s already gone.
The time for appropriation
left with the stage coaches
when the buffalo all died.
Skulls, ribcages, femurs rest
their weary bones on the turf–
muscle-laden monsters munched
upon the delicate roughage,
sure to save enough for later–
The grass is enshrining them,
filling in the rib spaces and placing
flickering votive candles on the scene.
(3) Don’t Want to Write–I’d Rather Be: Inventing Megapithicus
Eight of the largest specimens known to man all once resided in this very location. Of course, they all occupied different spans of time, though many of them overlapped by a good several decades. The overlap periods are usually favorable, though sometimes two beasts of such stature end up doing nothing but fighting over the small patch of territory. It’s not exactly their domain because they don’t own it, but it’s a kind of sanctuary where they may do as they wish to their environment. They are highly evolved, sure, but their evolutions veered away from our human ancestors a couple million years ago when they decided to breed primarily for strength. At the time it was a brilliant decision, because they were quite fertile and stable. No other animals or tribes of humanoids would dare to invade a Megapithicus lair. Of course, they don’t call themselves Megapithicus. Our preeminent primate scholars assigned that fun name to them when they first saw the ulna of a particularly large Megapithicus man which they later dated to 20,000 BCE.
WHARVED 