Flower FishWritten after Harrison(George Harrison Ford)His eyes are like a red ring of tiny blossomsspringing from patterned navy beds. With a sharp twist through the water he fans out behind hima bouquet of tall violet fronds, a forest, a ballooning flamenco skirt tapering white at the edges.It is hard to tell where the tail ends and the fish starts,like an enhancement attached all around his bodycrowning him,he is so much lesser without the tail, so much smaller, just a blue-black comma.Motionless, suspended in the water withtissue-paper fins undulating,he might as well have earned his place beside thestolid shot glass
AnagramsI:Jays walking acrossAn auburn sky, fall froze. LinedLeaves blazing soft, a shade to blood raged storms.Why does she still stroll? : wood bones rattle from(Ours) that tick: Nature sings a lullabyas she lies by his deathbed, sheCoughs; warm lips are red, butKind winds blow in frost.II:Albatross! Your angel wings roarGuised as the phoenix rose.Poised, you dwell in tar-pitched skies, a moorFloating on blue depths: it dozedAnxiously, flying in palace airDancing at violet dusk:Whirling, her tango plumes have flair,And he? Well, no one wanted his velvet musk.Rise my queen, for my ink describes you not!I, the pr
Woodland Diner part 1The flashing blue neon sign winked half-heartedly in the darkening sunlight. It hang lop-sided over the entrance of a worn, yet well-visited diner. "Aunty Ann's Woodland Diner", it read.The joint was screaming for refurbishment. Shutters slouched in their hinges; the heavy wooden door protested in the lightest of breezes; solar panels struggled to capture the dying sun spilling through the trees; the eye-catching red paint was losing its lustre; mulches of dead soggy leaves littered the perimeter, like a red carpet to a five-star restaurant.Because out in the woods, when the last gas-station was over seventy kilometres away and the next
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