Little slithery ink ball, wings stuck. Bleats from a bird throat. Low slow moan. Bodies lift, succumb into gummy plumbed crude seep. And the blot laps miles: purple green sheen.
-- from Passenger Flight
Friday, June 04, 2010
SLICK
Little slithery ink ball, wings stuck. Bleats from a bird throat. Low slow moan. Bodies lift, succumb into gummy plumbed crude seep. And the blot laps miles: purple green sheen.
-- from Passenger Flight
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2 comments:
Hi, Brian. Thanks for your piece from "Passenger Flight." It's amazing that you foresaw the future. Everyone should be a poet; that or we should have poets back in the royal courts, making predictions and influencing leaders with their dreams.
slick indeed ...
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