Scratch Art Poetry

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Silent at 6

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Hell's Thumb Drive

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The world may follow fire,

but I know a place where shadows spin roulette,

the dark and wet the only fashions worth following.

Photopoetry

My neighbors collect babies and

I envy them their cornucopia of giggles.

They have had their eye on my storehouse of sleep for months,

and if I didn’t need it like blood I would arrange a trade.

My pill plant is growing chubby little tablets

dry as math.

Harvest day is here.

I was busy being a bird,

birding with ease on a Wednesday

with only a cloud watching –

the currents too busy grinding

to notice my loop de loop