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Andre Mar 2015
I am not dead.
Ha!
I ache.
I curl into a fist.

...Ashes to ashes...
A single, calcified tear.
You heard me.
...The darkness...

Clambake!

Inside a dream, inside a dream, inside a dream.
Don't pet the cat that way.
You sent this to me in your sleep.
DO YOU HEAR ME SAYING NOTHING?
...Nothing.
The end.
Naomi Oliver Feb 2012
Aerial landing

A Dance of forever

Rutting and knitting

******* and a’ shakin’.

Headache clambake

Twitching *****

Versus numb neuters

Ever been a little of both?

The world tips, so that

Legs shake.

Do the twist-step

Mis-step

Misleading the flocks

See him hover, and

Warm all the *****!
Listen...carefully,
     and ye kin hear
the muffled (dollar us -
dolorous) sound ache
king plaintive very loosely
     analogous to duck cry

of mourning, didst awake
ken to the somber news
     solemnly shared by
me - Doctor Quackenbush,
sans strapping beefcake
quaking counterpart, thee

     lifetime beau he mien
(rhapsodic) paramour got betake
hen to "Heaven's Gate,"
after getting bitten
by a blacksnake,
which squished, slithered, and

     shimmied secretly stole
     said tasty morsel without brake
king (her/his) stride,
     and dug poisonous
     (scorpion like) fangs
geese hilly as

one would slice cake,
which revelatory brief
     anecdote mentioned cuz,
this medical professional caretake
person, (whose doppelganger
     quadruples, i.e. moonlights

     as an expert 1. cheesecake
maker, 2. fisherman known
     far and wide (across four
compass points of the globe)
as one awesome clambake
expert, 3. seismograph specialist

predicting, where and
when an earthquake
will strike, and 4. hide
bound blithe tanner preparing
     leather made goods,
     particularly handsome wallets

     (sewn from snake skin),
     the most popular item
     (possibly because, one crisp Benjamin
     Franklin legally tendered
     secreted within a pouch),
thus upon cutting open

(preparation for crafting bill folds)
this one well fed squamate,
lo and behold
revealed poor soul mate,
which family member
Anatidae resembled friedcake.
Jelisa Jeffery Aug 2020
I haven’t the slightest clue
Why a clover, running vast and tall
As the large oak is to me, as it is to an ant
Why the four-frond need not be seen
But to be as grand as gold
A lucky little forest undergrowth
A measly being with a great purpose
And a lesson to behold
When it leans upon the heel of your boot
Or settles near your clambake quilt
Even unnoticed
It lives merrily, dancing with an extra limb
Though no one will look down to see
It holds its gaiety in quietude; in still
Naomi Oliver Feb 2012
Aerial landing

A Dance of forever

Rutting and knitting

******* and a’ shakin’.

Headache clambake

Twitching *****

Versus numb neuters

Ever been a little of both?

The world tips, so that

Legs shake.

Do the twist-step

Mis-step

Misleading the flocks

See him hover, and

Warm all the *****!

— The End —