to crush a bug on your screen,
the wetness of their life
iridescent splatter
taking up a penny’s worth of space.
and then another wipe.
best not linger in my eyesight, insect.
they do not know my
awareness equals doom.
if only they could learn to spread the word.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...