Arnold Potter


In phony fears, shackled and caged
Trichoglossus moluccanus
heart detached from the toil of hard
work. Now, poison starts traveling
from my earlobes, my frigid brain,
my deflated, hammered-down waste
of four chambers. Proclaiming law
the Rodents leer; serve the crumbs for just themselves. Don’t leave a trail,
cut off their tongues. The cheered system
tampered with. Melt my lungs slowly–
just leave the Fruits unharmed, scar-less.

The Staccato

a blackbird whispered in a blue, sing-song
voice — “it’s about time for you to rejoin
the stars.” Dried leaves start to unfurl, knowing,
seemingly hearing the but one-sided
negotiation. No, it was more a
howling sound than it was an innocent
whistle. The rock has withered but its strength remains
pronounced in humble silence; stock flowers
have woken up to speak odes in mauve light.
“Have a safe trip,” we sing. “You’re never forgot.”


Please follow our commenting guidelines.

Comments are closed.