e is for f


the creaking of old skies
over the fields of fast growing
wings of deceased birds
conceals a call of a cow
detrimental to the ears of the two-legged


the twelfth psalmist remains unfaithful
to broken glass and digested grass
turning the silence inside out
before the popping eyes of the fish


in the dreams of a feral nanny goat
blind waiters climb slippery twisted staircases
to lick a secondhand sun


in a house made of cardboard winds
dragonflies die spitting cast-iron letters


the sun vaporizes our souls every night


6 thoughts on “e is for f

  1. i have surreal dreams such as this. i really have enjoyed what i have read of your writing. i think i will have to follow you. it’s nice to encounter another writer who writes oddities like myself. thank you – for being a surrealist. this is wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

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