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 want to go there; and no hallucinogens can take me. It will take plenty of money—far more than I currently have. Or have I hallucinated—aka, restricted—the nature of distance. I can touch the screen on which the image lives its geology, its plants, and whatever nutriments suffuse themselves through the tidewater. Or does go there have less to do with distance than the perception of the very that constitutes what I think—predicate even etymology can’t consistently predict. Somewhere, here in its hereafter, a distinction between space and space as a measurement of distance gets made.
ReplyDeleteI always thought a clean green
ReplyDeletelayered across a scene
and split by a muddy sheen
was what drew the eye.
though squashed flat
by a calcified slat
and oppressed
by a gale-gray sky,
you can’t expound
how it slopped down
like a squirted mound
or a fist’s jagged fingers bent
or a giant plop of dye.
go ahead strip and take a dip,
don’t slip,
but just to your shins;
don’t dip the bags in, boy baggins.
your breath is like a dragon’s,
so guzzle the flagons of a spew.
tell me, does it taste like a man-made dew?