they're flying
the bulbous head (it has no eyes)
flops
but it's nothing compared
to the flailing arms
they stretch out
from the main stalk
like a blue-stained tree, branches
sticking out from every
which way
striking with abandon
slamming and throwing a fit
it lies deep in its cage
stonework built around it
to keep anybody from witnessing
its childish nature, its immature behavior
it grabs a hunter, clad in a dingy garb
and it takes another arm, and another arm
and yet another arm, and squeezes
adapt
resurrect
mature
squeeze
YOU ARE READING
sprinkle in the woods (poetry #6)
Poetry"and it rains and rains and rains and rains for five more years and it's cloudy for ten once they leave, i'll be sunkissed i'll be the rock in the light illuminated simply by your presence my fallen star, you've finally met me and it's so lovely lov...
