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Literature Text
archimedes watch us float
with easement through the gentrified
skies above the slowing numbers
fat on tomorrow night’s leftovers
a volatile zeitgeist
strangled nimbus
in parlance with the pluviophiles
whose lust for rain
cannot sustain their
protozoan high
and countervailing automaton buzz
all the houseflies hum in F major
while the last man left
out in the wilderness spins
his sapience unfabled
with easement through the gentrified
skies above the slowing numbers
fat on tomorrow night’s leftovers
a volatile zeitgeist
strangled nimbus
in parlance with the pluviophiles
whose lust for rain
cannot sustain their
protozoan high
and countervailing automaton buzz
all the houseflies hum in F major
while the last man left
out in the wilderness spins
his sapience unfabled
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Literature
He is Coming
"He is coming!", I intone with mock seriousness. "Who is coming?", asks my son. "Bear Noel!", I say gutturally. "Coming to bring gifts to the animals of the forest!" And I lay back, enjoying my son's peals of laughter. Simpler times... Yet he still laughs with the same joy. Innocent still, In heart and mind, But somehow wiser than his years, Still my North Star, Guiding me through the night.
Literature
Dark Bird Fly
Dark Bird Fly Yesterday is an odd bird of twenty-one, far flown with ocean salt wet on his Dixie cup and fuck all in his teeth; Young enough to not sweat -- the sands, so oily-dark below. Last Sunday is an egg, thirteen years hatching; cracked on a wall to cry out his yolk, green and honeyed; then woke: guten tag, numbers heavy -- left to fall, so deadly-dark below. Midnight is a cuckoo, of twenty-four, yet again: forty-two; twirling calls in moonlit halls, walls white and closing; Old enough to not forget -- the hour, so fastly-dark below. Tomorrow is an albatross, ever to be counted: eighty-five? seventy- three? Yawning is the clock around her neck: "not yet, not yet", she clicks. "Time will fly" -- in tears, so earthly-dark below. MaggotsX @ 04.25.2022
... and other tropes of the animal kingdom
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