You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Joseph Joubert

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Fiction

The smog studded crow
Balancing on our tongues
glued with saliva
Looking for a pitcher in a somatic summer

Over the blueberry hills
A desperate river rushes down the nerves…
Panting breathlessly to see the moon
Plop!
My tongue salivates , the crow lays here.


“Every woman adores a fascist”
And the red reptile
Boiling restless
For women and grass

The night now flapping its wings
For claws scorched by burning lips
And the friction of teeth
More like a fascist
More like a mirror

The pebbles over the jaw safe keeps
The bird of language, taste
And saliva,
The bird that manipulates
easy eyes.

2 comments:

Siddhartha said...

Very nicely written

mothreed said...

A number of strong turns of phrase, particularly in the opening and closing stanzas. Nicely done.