Scrittura
Published in

Scrittura

“Dye Gestion”

A Prose Poem

Artwork by Author

I can’t wear the bandana any more, t’least not backwards. There’s too much horror an’ lion tongues throughout those bars, and those islands not so far away, they stare at me, with compromise. They stare so quite demurely, they look with strangest eyes.

Don’t squiggle at me thatwise, you didn’t pay the admission; I wasn’t dancing for you, I wasn’t dancing at all. Not for you nor the apples, that fell from those highways, while you paid all those tollticks, though the mail it never came.

Rather ask an open question. See now that’s better, don’t you agree? Didn’t you feel the difference, as you sunk into the Sea. Stop listening to Aphrodite. She’s a liar with those brazen skirts. Believe me I’ve been there. The stink is worse than blossom mists.

Hunker down. Hear the waves. Hunker down. Behold the whirlwind. Hunker down, the gods are returning. Hunker down, it’s Turtle Bay.

You left your shore, my friend, my Nemo. And now the sands are poison toes. Not that you will ever dip there — for the medicine’s in the air, to embrace you.

“But there’s an antidote,” you tell me, “in my toesies and in my tum”. Wake up, Goliath-child. Wake up before you die. Arise thou clumsy wave-clod, even toddlers die at day.

Fox Kerry

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Fox Kerry

Fox Kerry

If you paint for me even one thing which is true, perhaps I’ll be tempted to consider two. I tell tales poetically, someone else needs to set them to music.