Night thunder arrives. Occult spacecraft descend,
hurl giant underbellies of sound downward -
climactic events galvanize grouting and glass.
The next boom is distant, yet lightning streaks
across closed eyes.
Backyard bones are starkly illuminated,
perhaps even scorched?
An astral mythology shakes its bright spears.
Is that the crackling of flaming grasshoppers?
Then on the roof, a thud and flopping of metallic fins,
is it an alien craft or an armored coelacanth?
For an instant, minds are thrown out of their skins.
Parallel lines collide; pidgins drop, stunned
by a siren sky.
From an upturned trashcan lid, an electric Venus
is seen rising from her ancient scallop.
She is sexually charged and triumphantly aglow,
about her, the fallen twitch on.
Categories:
coelacanth, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Night thunder arrives. Occult spacecraft descend,
hurl giant underbellies of sound downward.
Climactic events galvanize grouting.
The next boom is distant,
other places are scorched or illuminated
by quixotic hosts -
you never know with astral mythology.
The crackling of flaming grasshoppers,
then on the roof, a thud and flopping of fins,
as armored coelacanth are thrown out of their skins.
Only the menstrual blood of virgins
can ward off showers of frogs.
Parallel lines collide; stunned pigeons drop
from the darkness.
From upturned trashcan lids, Venus is seen
rising from her scallop.
She is sexually charged, triumphantly aglow.
About her, the fallen twitch.
Categories:
coelacanth, poetry,
Form: Free verse
A heavy heart is filled with
grape juice
in which torn skins float
after feet
popped the centers
and ripped vines
leaving gaps between the toes
to suck at flesh
and spit out seeds
to be sowed in beds
and the blood of sores
trickles down pipes
to the stomach
which fills
like clouds in
overcast
the color of
Coelacanth
The Workers
Categories:
coelacanth, sad love,
Form: I do not know?