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Fred Sat in a Room
Fred sat in a room
his trunk twisting
like a Chubby Checker tornado
cars
Shush
White-Siren-Noise
Passing sounds
behind the Couch
Lightbulbs above
Twin-HomeGoods-Bought-Buddah heads
Turn off
With a quick (another way?)
flick
Black Panther
dreaming
under
a Great Wave
2 Books
Bullet-Proof
lay in an armored-open-casket
Made
for
Wind
Paths
wander out
like shattered windshield
spiders
And East
a city
And North
a city
And West
a city
And South
a city
Oh wow, just how many cities
Oh wow, just how many cities could there be! Makes one feel claustrophobic just reading about it. Poor Fred, at least he's got windshield spiderwebs that glint in the son!
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver