At the hooligan kiosk, I pushed the tokens for that one of kind rainbow magic. I turned left toward the merchandise limerick where styrene bonemeal spill out of buckets. The ash hardens, the sun darkens, and the sirens fall into the ocean. Silence in the rubble and somehow I manage not to get barbershop rabies. With titled persistence, I find afterlife parsley and plant it in moon dust.
With hood and mask
the haze stings– deviance
is in shadow light.
***
Here is poem number 4. Damn this sickness is not letting my brain cells work right. I don't think this poem turned out too bad. Let's hope tomorrow is more invigorating. At least I wrote a poem and wrote two items for Camp. Find more great poets at NaPoWriMo
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