I, II, III (the buzz)
JonJon, B, ADC--you've inspired me. See it here. Some chaos from me to you. This poem was a real struggle to produce. Thanks a lot, self. I. the buzz she cleans up well, but not without a mess; just days ago, she ate her way out of a weevil. wasps are fools for the filling. tsk-tsk. cycle through. pop the skin. age. prick a partner, then again inject some eggs. the slow project quickly speeds ahead. the sway of summer whey, hips in heat, shush-shush. II. you go on ahead without cochlea, I'd come loud every time. escapee from the eardrum doldrums, the fruit bat divulges his secret to nocturnal feeding: with no sound there can be no unsettling. Pamplona's the only place Ms. Plath couldn't push balls-out past the bull. so what hibiscus pouts its pollen unabashed? fleur-de-lis, a design done up in more machination than B ΓΌ ndchen daily musters. mollusk-sting the achilles. sea-bottom out. sashay. sway baby, sway. III. we're past patina once fe...