fivey eyed the barn door,
her right forearm tingled with
a quite familiar burn,
it informed her tone:
"you nannys ain't dealin' proper.
i had hoped this would stay above-board,
but if you wanna wake snakes,
let's frolic!"
her right arm shot out, glowing energy
pulled three armed men through
splintering wood; the barn creaked
and the men screamed
as their bodies were dragged
across the dirt
before being launched out
the far wall.
fivey stomped her left foot;
the two shotguns trained on her
slithered, hissed, and—
with both barrels—
bit the two closest men
in their necks.
her right foot slid behind her
in a perfect half-circle,
Where Nothing Dares Settle by BlackBowfin, literature
Literature
Where Nothing Dares Settle
we assume the fish
that appears to advance
without moving
does so, effortlessly;
as if the sea itself
merely wills them forward
we long to swim like this
to hold our position
in the universe
while the earth
churns its oceans past,
as if its motion
were ours
and perhaps it might be
if we could only comprehend
how much lag
truly resides
in the linkage between
space and time,
then we'd know water
like it knows us
our ins and outs
and the low places
where nothing dares settle
for long
we'd know why sleep evades
when we're most spent,
as memories
older than our own
activate,
once we traverse
a certain set proximity
Sound Carries Near a Salt Flat by doughboycafe, literature
Literature
Sound Carries Near a Salt Flat
the noise of a dying man
is that of a humpack whale
reverberating across the desert thermocline,
tunneling between the dune
and the horizon.
he whines,
low, not loud, but it surrounds us;
ocean pressure straining
at the sides of a submerging ship.
the harpoon head of
the frag bomb burns in his leg -
flesh irreparably breached -
as that groaning
calls navigation signs
to some unknown counterpart far
across the sand.
I can swear to you
he will be gone in forty-eight hours from the sepsis
if medical can't make it to this fucking
shelled-out excuse for a town
by tomorrow evening. I give
a sedative
still, his cries carry
like those son
she dances with the wind, not understanding
any of my cares, and yet - she cares
for all of them. I tell her "I deserve better than this
old abyss again and again."
and I am tired enough for an entire forest, but
old pine, mother of wings, stands still and
nurtures many things (me being the smallest of them, only
a whisper of a girl), and in whispers I learn
how to nurture something
not fire or dark, something like roots
or strong rainstorms
or the slow patience, the unafraid confidence that lets her stand tall
and be touched by nothing but wind
and sunshine and all the good things,
none of them human, none of them harm.
one day, I will st
Dusty feet, kicking the ball,
Vigorously shouting 'goal'
Laughing running, scoring,
The evening sun, setting,
Looking up to the skies,
They see glistening stars,
Brightly shining, falling down,
The stars seeds the floor,
And the laughing is no more.
Trwy'r mynydd-lwybyr hirhoedlog,
Olrhain gadaelodd yr hên dywysogion,
Adfeilion yn dinistrio islaw laswellt wyllt,
A'r sibrynau'n adseinio trwy'r nôs.
------------------------------------
Through the ancient mountain pass,
Princes of old, left their mark,
Vestiges crumble under wild grass,
And whispers echo through the dark.