products from today's round of the random writing game

pale, the recent snow

sticks soft on
stillgreen grass
blades too warm

to hold.

it melts
in a filigree instant.

so wet, small.

slip down
the thin shaft,

to warmer earth
and sink
in its deep,

deep brown.



locks; they said

no.
and i hang rusty
against your fence,

past use and scrawled
in this oxidized
neglect.

shaking is not
the key.

you keep
shaking

me.


leathery, unlikely

breakthrough, black wings
beneath rippled shoulder
blades; breathe
blue burnt air, a
singe of smoke
in the twilight and you
unfurl. flap unfettered.

pull with pleading
his pliant frame, pull him
from the graveyard growth
of the grey ground and
wheel a wended way to

these broad branches;
i can be a better bough,
tall, taut and green.
so long i have groped
bare into night sky,
trauma trembled
in looseleaf, in
all the leaving.



you are free, the river films with lilies

you, sun,
encourage them.

they hide each
whirl and eddy.

they hide your
bright gold face,

no longer drawn
by the cobalt reflection
of pooled mirrors.

fool, forget;

sprawl your
coronal arcs
over true cyan,
you could unveil
their holes,
each pomp of
cloud.

but, oh,
we see.

you see,

narcissus
loved the river,
too.