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A Flock Is Encircling an Esophageal White Sky

Above a beached bleached paperback, "The Doors of Perception", a pent-up penchant for greed is flung wide open: The esophagus of a seagull sky grows narrow until one seagull stomachs trash with zero tolerance for sharing. Squeaky double doors apprise descending gulls this bird has wings doubling in size. Squishy moist sand, footprint-ridged into pouty lips, chased-away seagulls waddle toward crushed crumbs. Captains trudge farther ashore or return to ships.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 5/24/2025 11:23:00 PM
Thank you for commenting on my poems. I havent been on the soup for awhile. Your poem sets me on the beach watching the seagulls looming overhead. my son and i were in Florida in March and he took a bag of potato chips on the beach and fed them. he was instantly swarmed!
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Barthwell Farmer
Date: 5/28/2025 6:31:00 AM
Thank you! Yes, I always find it fun, feeding birds. Seagulls seem so territorial when it comes to food even when trying to spread it about so that they'll all get a bite.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things