laika - Hello Poetry

Old car batteries, jumper cables and a squeeze toy lay strewn about the playpen, saliva and battery acid intermingle there, a jagged-toothed mobile slowly revolves overhead, the arc-welder spits brilliantly as we mend teddy’s arm. The walls shudder from pounding machines downstairs, the scent of spilled hydraulic oil and grease waft in, is dinner cooking? Teddy’s arm is healed, the weld a rippling scar, we take him by the arm to the forge and draw a bath, climbing in we turn molten again.

0

Sep 11, 2014

Sep 11, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC

Untitled

Old car batteries, jumper cables and a squeeze toy lay strewn about the playpen, saliva and battery acid intermingle there, a jagged-toothed mobile slowly revolves overhead, the arc-welder spits brilliantly as we mend teddy’s arm. The walls shudder from pounding machines downstairs, the scent of spilled hydraulic oil and grease waft in, is dinner cooking? Teddy’s arm is healed, the weld a rippling scar, we take him by the arm to the forge and draw a bath, climbing in we turn molten again.

13

I knew you I knew you when we were young our roots barely held us in the loamy soil our pale green leaves gently, tentatively unfurling toward the sun toward each other but now we're old and decaying With each year, we shed our skin sloughing off bark dropping our brown withered leaves slouching into winter we hunker down And each spring the call to bud and renew is quieter our trunk and stalks creak with the waking effort we decay there is no escape from entropy and one day the loam and humus that birthed us that even now feed and lift us up will reclaim us button caps will push their tendrils into our flesh forcing apart our fibers to let silverfish crawl within

0

Sep 11, 2014

Sep 11, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC

Untitled

I knew you I knew you when we were young our roots barely held us in the loamy soil our pale green leaves gently, tentatively unfurling toward the sun toward each other but now we're old and decaying With each year, we shed our skin sloughing off bark dropping our brown withered leaves slouching into winter we hunker down And each spring the call to bud and renew is quieter our trunk and stalks creak with the waking effort we decay there is no escape from entropy and one day the loam and humus that birthed us that even now feed and lift us up will reclaim us button caps will push their tendrils into our flesh forcing apart our fibers to let silverfish crawl within

24

Block by block I delve down is it iron? is it gold? or only gravel and stone toiling with pick and shovel I dream obsidian spires towering 190 blocks above the shore I dream wheat fields and cow pens nestled amidst rolling hills I dream discovery mystery exploration but before these there must be iron

0

Sep 11, 2014

Sep 11, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC

minecraft dream

Block by block I delve down is it iron? is it gold? or only gravel and stone toiling with pick and shovel I dream obsidian spires towering 190 blocks above the shore I dream wheat fields and cow pens nestled amidst rolling hills I dream discovery mystery exploration but before these there must be iron

16