Alice ‘n’ Lobsterland
It glares down at me with a smug crustacean grin, and at once I have no question this is a lobster demon.
It glares down at me with a smug crustacean grin, and at once I have no question this is a lobster demon.
So many questions. Who was she, that she would bury a book? Would it be wrong to dig it up and read it?
I watch the door, I watch the window. And flinch at every noise. Dream every nightmare.
The biting rainwater dripping down my back melds with something deeper, some knowing. The crow is still here.
His scissors are soaking in soapy water. She turns and almost stabs him in the belly. He jumps back.
Pandemic poverty more floods and fires and here and there a Machiavelli who can smile and smile and be a villain.
In the attic stands a cardboard mansion. I can relate to this wallpaper, slowly coming unglued inside this house.
A haiku is a very brief Japanese poem of 17 total syllables in three lines. Line one is 5 syllables, line two is 7 syllables, and line three is 5 syllables.
She gave her life to art while her lover was tortured in the wing. My father would stare at the long avenues ahead.