from the vine
dusk shadows —
the lingering taste
to a Comet
No fixed star in heaven glows so bright.
Ice and dust, dirty snowball tracing elliptical
paths. Slow moving herald of doom or
delight, cloud tails flaring. Hard, crispy outside
and cold, soft inside, like fried iced cream.
Unpredictable as attraction. You hairy star,
you fiery space beast causing meteor showers,
causing trouble, leaving trails of
debris. Strange, lovely sight.
The onshore breeze picked up the ash
& carried it to the mountains.
This new normal
will be the death of us who bleed & consume.
No big thing
children forget how to be silly
forget the rest.
lingering thoughts —
between hair follicles
sees a sleepy yawn
through an open mouth
Freddy Flea flounced on fresh fruit
landing face forward on a fork
Somehow he learned to fly away
the frightened fruit was saved
i return as
~Terri L. French
taking her tisket
made of polystyrene,
a covey of moths
eclipse of the moths
~Roberta Beach Jacobson
values wrapped in rot
~Terri L. French
morning after . . .
the pork rinds
The Ferris wheel landed in the ocean like a toy hurled by an angry
god. Now carp glide through the spokes, its cars rocking blindly.
Gawkers still peer at the ruins of mangled houses: splintered
frames, a toilet on its side, someone’s sagging bed frame. Where the bay
ravished the ocean, a carpet of sand. You think I’m exaggerating? Look at
the pictures. I made a scrapbook: Before and after. What doesn’t kill you etcetera
. . .
When the next hurricane comes, I’ll name it after you. No sea wall will be high
enough to withstand the waves. Try re-building the boardwalk with fake wood.
Try mending my heart with duct tape. At night, wild dune grass rustles and
moon kisses the highest chair on our wheel.
that the feet we're given are wrong for the task