Wake me from the plunder

of being kissed

on the lips by unripened pears

A card board bird’s beak

smeared radioactive with soured honey

Held in molten silence        I’m feeling the raptor burn through

as I burst into pustules       fish scales       and flight

through mute voices


the dying of my light



Artist: Dan Casado



18 responses

    • We used to have garbage men pick up the trash and recycling. Now we have these mechanical armed trucks that lift the lidded trash bins into the truck spewing lose garbage all over the street…not a lot but it accumulates.
      I live in the mnts. of Appalachia. Poison ivy is as common as dandelions here and grows up through all the hedges even in the city. All the litter eventually blows into the hedgerows. Every year I’ve been here, I have an increasing respect for poison ivy.
      On an infinitesimal scale it’s my own Fukushima but it’s something I can do something about.
      This poem IS creepy Alice, thanks for noticing…


    • Casada is becoming a favorite lately. His work is a good balance to the subject matter. Maybe it’s easier to approach? But whatever, nuclear explosions are a nightmare, no?


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