A Compendium of Beasts

The Poet hides in bathrooms where the mirrors have not yet been covered. Ornate fixtures are most coveted, for they provide moral support and sense of texture. They are apropos of nothing. Unlike pelicans they do not tear their breasts open for the blood of their children; thus they are not representations of Jesus. The door is open but you still need a key. Skeleton metals work best. Or sometimes antonyms, if held in the hand and proffered at just the right moment in the sentence. There are other creatures here but no one notices the fly unless it is an annoyance. Humans are the most strangest of animals. There is supposed to be a moral lesson here, something elusive and overarching about the world and those who wander among it. But facts are so much easier to capture and kill.


Back of the Envelope

Image taken with iPhone.
Words written with good company and chicken-bacon-pesto crepes.
Ears On just don’t ask.
Time Taken Five minutes?
Brain On Brazil. Again. Still. Wee!

This entry was published on July 12, 2012 at 11:05 am and is filed under July, Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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