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neth jones Feb 2024
a troubled little wisp of waxy death   punches from my lips
(is it the exhaust   from many thriving microorganisms ?)
there it is   a clearly visible tiny cloud formation
(is this an indication?... the breaking down my over ripened form ?)
married also is its appearance  in the bathroom mirror
(confirmation that   it is no illusion)

i was quite casual about the event (thank you)
but not enough
              to stop me noting it here ;
call it   'the death weather report'
it shall be journaled further
i already feel observed
   as though by some bored student mortician
neth jones Feb 2024
lying, deceitful liar    panting live in the steamy mongrel of my slummy hive / marksman, deficient marksman   rake out my mortar - the body laughter - criminal grime  ; an absent partner /  

kissed ; what a frisky view - the sky seems so keen
from here   it's howling downhill  fire i breathe
so sweet to greet the menial hereafter

                                                - [manic laughter]
had the song This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us by Sparks stuck in my head when i wrote this and two other shorts
Blue flames lick
the copper-bottomed pan.

Inside, hot milk rises,
underneath a white, foamy tarp.

A whoosh and frothy surge of
swollen milk cascades down steel sides.

Blue flames
turn red and extinguish.

Gas and acrid vapour mingle,
a beach of volcanic ash cools.
...moon's shadow,
Intentionality free -
A lacuna exists.
On beaches of buttery biscuit,
Martian fruits drip
                                  red
                                            syrupy
                                                          goo
Onto time frozen swirls of cool surf.
neth jones Jan 2024
rage of snow outside
against it   i finish sealing
    windows and doors
my self segregation
    from which    a depression forms
tanka style

notes :

 windows and doors
form a segregation
  depression builds
a rage of snow outside
i finished doing the weather stripping

dry heat headaches and orange peel scented caulking
neth jones Jan 2024
winter warfare
torments our dwellings brickwork
night of casualties
aggressive plague on my dreams
wakes me  to be visited
tanka style
neth jones Jan 2024
clue time   game of bluff-man blind   fuss of obstacles scold up my mind -(the-vermin-are-quite-rife) / portrait, ambitious portrait   racing a train - broadsword toward - a fertile pocket of prissy death ;/ crown, fist and sprawl in the court of The Charmers   sole hissy-fit upon your knees
had the song This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us by Sparks stuck in my head when i wrote this and two other shorts
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2024
fewer words means no greater appreciation


well you know, I’m not one
famous for brevity, after all,

why not use three words for
every one sufficient, satisfying
the egotistical statistical curve
of the illnesses of literary illiteracy.

exactly.

but brevity in thanking,


the swift surety of a few
chosen, well aimed, words,
is the arrow in the bullseye,
that is taped to my chest,
directly over my heart,
that part, from which we
ship and receive
immense gratitude
countless kindnesses
and proofs positive,
that our two hearts yet beat,
marching in more than
unison,
nay,
marching in a

unification
greater than any
distanced separation!
Feb 6, 2024
nyc
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