Sunday, September 30, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
garlic phallus
am i strong willed? is that why i'm doomed?
as fish schools part and switch back,
the shading i cast, as fool, seems to dissipate.
half-buried chains wave to give anchor but i drift.
my staff are a bunch of dicks posing in lab coats
, and even they can't find a way to get after me.
some friends might fuss or threaten, chumming on
jetsam of the callow marrow of a man's trajectory.
Donna
as fish schools part and switch back,
the shading i cast, as fool, seems to dissipate.
half-buried chains wave to give anchor but i drift.
my staff are a bunch of dicks posing in lab coats
, and even they can't find a way to get after me.
some friends might fuss or threaten, chumming on
jetsam of the callow marrow of a man's trajectory.
Donna
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
something empty we share
The emptiness between us is something empty that we share.
Your head blocking the light behind you makes our faces dark.
Your head blocking the light behind you makes our faces dark.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Let's not
Let's not
take this any further
or end it either
wild poinsettias bobbing in circles is their race up the mountaintop
and while we're someone who'd never say no to a splash of color
we're stuck with the translucency of skin as a crude odometer
Ken
take this any further
or end it either
wild poinsettias bobbing in circles is their race up the mountaintop
and while we're someone who'd never say no to a splash of color
we're stuck with the translucency of skin as a crude odometer
Ken
Labels:
Ken,
monster poinsettia
Sunday, September 16, 2012
self-regard
i see fresh irises, ski slopes,
pancakes, cross hatching,
a jutting larynx ridge.
there is an eyed, faceless being
inside a face with no eyes.
spasms, years pin back a jeering.
clusters of melanin
are moving back
and blending in,
for youth is in a reversal.
dyed payback is all ahead;
winter is nearing an end.
by Missy
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
admonishment
wasted bird of paradise
edging sideways through life
straight is the final arrow's flight
even if you do things right
harsh are the rains and tides
jarring are the co-confined's
needling the pines
wicked the minds
Labels:
vittles
Friday, September 7, 2012
Latest Starving Titles
- Bourgeoisie, please!
- Effluvium of underarm and flowers
- i guess it's my testosterone make me wanna force things
- Torsion and beyond to what can be cured by narrative?
- Bag o' Cock
- Now! Less Panic
- No, we're not smosta spoke here but we do.
- Fagnimicent
- There's nothing for me in these bushes but cover.
By Donna
Labels:
vittles
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
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