Hello . . . this is Joe. Welcome to A Daily Drabble. Please add 100 words of prose or poetry as a comment on any date you want and in any order you want. Please reply on the drabbles you like. I'll moderate the comments at night, and they'll appear the next day. This is for everyone!
I don’t have any good enough reason for thinking salt in Gujarat. Lions—too little blood on their lips— print signatures they never expected to sign on this constriction, I mean slated for construction, of beach where getting close to a camel—flanks slick with savor of salt—can mean calories or kicked. One species of endangered kills a member of an equally bad or more wretched statistic. Sometimes I like rethinking terms; but I would rather not deconstruct what the lion did yesterday. Fog, like viewing fresh milk through the pane of ice below the brim of a pail.
ReplyDeleteUnicorn horns pushing through islets of brie in a glassy sea. Everything tinctured chartreuse green. Beyond the sheen, a castle or batholiths, or a castle of batholiths, not-quite-centers the scene. Above as below, a waning crescent glow, semi-transparent, iridescent, a pearly trident of power marks the hour—apex pointing, power erection, lemon-lime candy dough, spread out and pleaded by Joe, kneaded by his greed and seeded by his one-eyed steed, all of it juxtaposed yet congruous, a screed that staves the need for a full glimpse of Ganymede. A space man couldn’t land where wisps whisper across a planetoid unplanned.
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