with the care of a sunflower face or safety pin

cannot clip

dotted lines

power lines

ravens all aboard


sunflower faces

gaze at the sun

much the way

i look

at you


window panes shatter

an empty  building succumbs

to a thunderstorm


teardrops scatter, inappropriately

as brian wilson

belts out his song


agile, fast, heartbroken

does she navigate

the Limberlost

the chamomile clinging


at her sides


with the care

that could only be exhibited

in fastening a safety pin

onto his lapel




Pollywog Sinclair


Once there was a man named Pollywog Sinclair.

He would hold his Boston Terrier close to his chest.

As if there were a cross for a landing strip where the dog’s back had to be adhered

With masking tape.

Those dogs were made to beat eachother

Bat at eachother, their shivering, oinking, farting selves

in the depths of boston amongst

Deceased lobsters, other crustaceans.

Briny as it was.

Mr. Pollywog Sinclair rescued the dog from an orange juice factory.

The dog would never have scurvy.

But his hairs would get into the orange juice cartons and that wasn’t good.

Pollywog Sinclair would wear a vest over his chest to conceal his belly and

Pear-shaped body. He was awfully soft looking for a man. He had “birthing hips.”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s