Saturday

Shipbroken,

The best young talons
Trampled by
Overboarding passagers
Pouring toward the last owlet,
Racked by the wont and waggery
Of their underbellied messenge
Every year.

Still the sea chair begs for boards
(Even on this Island of Despair)
So...
We pigeon up Wing Spanners,
The "plankshearers of broken birdlings,"
And then get shipped a crate of rain?

Oh, Proclub!
When will it all engage?

3 comments:

where eagles fly said...

pussyfingerhangnail

wes virgina said...

pirate's parents
craiglist killer
cosmic fountain

IDENTITAS said...

up until that point at which
fresh waves
are inspiring
does this post stop
referring
like likenesses to junior sizes