Flanking the Albatross


#1

Rules:

  • Create poetry
  • Fewer lines are better
  • Surreal is best

MoveOn tells Sanders to move on
Enormous Smallness – Work hard and you can become a poet (not a message kids often hear)
#2

You don’t breath oxygen anymore. The heartstrings have become more literal. I wait like statues at the end of time, looking over the sunrise-abyss.


#3

Chocolate. Majesty of berrie straws, wednesday tries again. Zanzabar shotguns attempt to mate, and yet rainbow colors break the speed of car, lackluster retinas are to blame.


#4

Tables turned find @Flossaluzitarin. Summoning circles, hollowed light inching with finality. Enter the Albatross.


#5

I woke up.
My foot is bigger than my bed.
I stood up.
I can’t find my head.
I relax my shoulders.
Why again?


#6

She stoops.

The blancmange is curdled.

bats.
BATS.
BATS

Unicorn.


#7

The excellent one has impressed a mind that has no syrup with an art like a fine pancake. A beautiful twist of the maple.


#8

Chinchilla!
Chinchilla!
Chinchilla!


#9

Polygonal olives rise from pestilence
but recede into floriform waves of paresthesia.
Lyrica is not for everyone.


#10

Twisted as honeysuckle and as sweet as twisted ivy.
The albatross calls.


#11

Lilac soliloquies ring timeless amid a field of harbinger wails.


#12

Oubliette. The fox in in the henhouse.

Broadsword calling Danny boy. His toupee is on backwards, and nobody said anything.


#13

Snap.
 


#14

No hedgehogs could know the mouth of a leatherback, there’s time, but it can’t be. No leatherbacks could know the mouth of a hedgehog, because it’s jarring. But the mouth of the jar that holds a Statgear Rescue knife by the teeth? That literally cuts anything.


#15

Bunker fuel fluid
Counting on the engineers
What did we build here?


#16

Floccinaucinihilipilification. Easy for you to say.

I’ll take cocktails for $600, and hold the cheese.


#17

Likes.
None.
Fuck.


#18

My god, it’s full of laudanum.

Brobdignan cucumberpatch, and love is in the.east.

It’s an ill will that blows. My tiffany lamp lies

BROKEN.

AND.

who will. Who?

Moustache. Moussaka. Mouseketeer.


#19

If one can possibly attain that level of performance in any domain, it would develop an impulse towards excellence which expresses through my clicky keyboard such that the contents of the pyramids would become known to all without intervention by the usual intermediaries. Although Bernie is often proposed as a vessel of the help I am a prisoner in a free association factory untoward theory of the cycling thread approach to transport equability, the revenue of such instances would never cook the pasta.


#20

come dear, let’s abstract . . .
we’ll think and fold our universe
and have no song.