17.01.08 fuzz
He leans where legs would splinter,
eyes easy on passing peons,
but for dark blue armour,
creased and rusted with mustard
stains, smile would slip
apologies or accusations
at the ash in his hair,
the tape on his glasses.
Old …
He leans where legs would splinter,
eyes easy on passing peons,
but for dark blue armour,
creased and rusted with mustard
stains, smile would slip
apologies or accusations
at the ash in his hair,
the tape on his glasses.
Old …
does not say a word
when the candle won’t burn,
never wonders; if
she fears, he falls,
flaming.…
He stands, simple
tunes gushing from his lips
the twin beasts are before him,
evasive under a layer of grease.
(did the first tentative tap
bring the devil’s voice booming?)
The cogs fall,
springs unwind in supplication,
a thousand destinations…
Once upon a time, the Sun got sick.
It started off as a series of wet sniffles on a fine Spring afternoon, but by the end of Summer the thermometer showed a supernova temperature. A constant stream of solar flares …
he awoke a platypus
a chimera of loose skin
and knuckles.
horny and bold
we stuck him with spears
and hurled boulders
nevermind the war cries
crafted, honed
to pierce his nervous shield
now we sting ourselves
with nettles
sunk …