Lit of the Week 128!

The Parable of the Grasshopper
Raven-of-Prophecy

The Parable of the GrasshopperMy ambrosial allegro. I used to sing freely, flowing
Odes to flaxen charms, immersed in honeyed fields and
Dawn illuminations. Summer seduced me.
Her beautiful blooms,
Merry serenades and vainglorious feasts with beguiling beasts
Entreated me to bask too long. These days,
There are no songs.
All gold sensations have absconded.
Sparkling securities swallowed by
Cold storms and brash towers,
A stucco stage of blinding light to a craven
Cage of darkness.
I’m afraid. Was I
A sabayon scholar, excessively
Contented with pompous promise that
Reflected in the looking glass, and now
Essentially spent and decaying emerita?
Did I cash in my bonds too soon?
Did I squander those embellished investments?
I was certain there was more within my walls.
A vault of boundless possibility discreetly
Nestled in my arthropod bravado,
But I was wrong: the dumfounded debtor
Propped on spindle legs as hungry creditors descended
Down to swoop their dues like hurricane vultures, pound
POUND. Cue the wretche

Merry serenades and vainglorious feasts with beguiling beasts / Entreated me to bask too long. These days, / There are no songs.



Reasons Never to Write
LeftUnfinished

Reasons Never to WriteYou’ll want someone exotic, and marry a Romanian. He’ll tell you to dye your hair and you’ll do it, then make chewing on its multicolored strands a habit. You’ll kiss him once and say he tastes like wine. Wine, no? he’ll say with a grin. Only gentlemen drink wine. You'll leave him because you won’t like cliches.
You’ll find a shadow behind a counter (because that’s the only way to describe him). You’ll watch him clashing silverware around in drawers like cold piles of bones, and he’ll give you a free slice of key-lime pie and say it’s the best in the state. You’ll lick up its tanginess on the prongs of your fork and decide that it’s not, but you won't pull away from his eyes that will remind you of your favorite crayon. Then he’ll look you up and down and say, another? You’ll decide to love him because anyone worth loving is worth a free slice of key-lime pie. You’ll make him kiss you even w

You’ll watch him clashing silverware around in drawers like cold piles of bones, and he’ll give you a free slice of key-lime pie and say it’s the best in the state. 



piloting
ignotism



your / mother, oh, she / was / cracked / like a cockpit / smashed into / pavement

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