Coronal mass ejections unseen and unheard provide complimentary x-rays for all on this blessed beach. Radio waves tune to an alternate frequency, while technicians succumb to the undertow of neutrons. Bacon sizzles in the fire pit. A line of solar flares lead the way for all walkers and wayward souls…
passing through us
into a soft matrix
devoid of activity
frantic at the pane . . .
ANTI-VIRAL DANDELION SOUP:
–Dandelion greens, thoroughly washed
–1-2 cloves fresh garlic
–1 tablespoon finely diced fresh ginger
–Soup base, stock, or bullion (to taste)
Instructions: Bring to a boil; then turn down heat and simmer for about 15 minutes. Note: Don’t spray your lawns to remove dandelions. Dandelions are medicine! We dump enough toxic substances into the environment. Give your lawns, bees, and stray cats a break!
ANTI-VIRAL NO BAKE COOKIES:
–1 cup raw* honey (anti-viral)
–½ cup coconut oil (anti-viral)
–½ cup cocoa powder (antioxidants)
–1 cup nut butter of choice (nut butter + oats = a complete protein)
–3 cups quick oats (nut butter + oats = a complete protein)
–1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Instructions: Mix wet ingredients. Mix in oats. Spoon into cookie shapes and chill until hardened. *Raw honey has medicinal properties heated honey may lack. Note: Don’t feed babies under 1-year of age honey. Their digestive systems are underdeveloped, and it may kill them!
forsythia buds . . .
how quiet the town
Wrapped around your finger, like a towel around an agitator. Lost my glasses in the dishwasher looking for you. The blow-dryer went out with a bang and now my hair has powder burns. The dining room light is out and I can’t see what I am eating. Tastes like sawdust anyway.
belching and smoking
with a purpose…
The traffic light said GO; smash! The insurance company raised my rates to see if I bleed. All this from a fortune-teller who asked me how I was going to get home. Found my toupee in the lint trap. You never liked it anyway. If only I could borrow enough money to live like a lottery winner, there would be more cheese in the fridge. Our dirty laundry is on the clothesline. When will the cows come home? All I know is if you add detergent, and put quarters in the slot, I’ll spin like a top with bubbles until the laundry mat is closed.
Kama Sutra Blues…
for all positions
What if you could paint your own sky? Would it be a Pollock-inspired painting in primary colours? Define the outer edges. Of course, it’s all-over. Slice a piece out and recombine with other favourites from time to time. Heck, paint it black at noon.
On the road there is only an ageless man with the hands marked by illness. He is sitting on the sidewalk close to the traffic lights.
the bowl of a beggar
constantly receiving shipments
of sadness and sorrow.
So we slap on some of those
Happy Happy Joy Joy stickers
and soon as you can say it
those suckers are snapped up
as if all folks need is a little
smiley face to stare back at
from the confines of their
Protocol dictated a button be pushed.
An impressive male, he was to father generations
of Silverbacks until the small boy
dropped himself like a hand grenade.
The great ape flung him giddily about
like a plaything oblivious to the countdown.
Like a ticket home.
the play within the play
death by cop
A rented room. This saggy mattress and assemble-it-yourself bookshelf. Yet, how sweet are those hardwood floors? And the sound of one’s own footfall in the silence.
when home is no longer : home
Kelly Sauvage Angel
Another six hours have passed. The nurse comes back with a new bag to hang up on the IV stand. She reconnects the cannula and a cold liquid invades unsuspecting veins. An alien invasion of personal space. A metallic taste. It doesn’t feel the same as last time.
fear of needles
finding a new bravado
Twenty minutes later. A different nurse. The bag is empty, and things are not what they were the last time, or the time before. That cold liquid felt mercury-like. It’s triggered a transformation, like Neo had, after swallowing the red pill. A perfusion of internal organs has caused irrevocable change. Flesh is now mimetic polyalloy. Will it affect consciousness? Maybe an updated imagination could create any personality it wants. Such power, such possibilities, yet still an overwhelming urge to sleep.
dry veins drifter
looking to hitch a ride
on a new nightmare
David J. Kelly
Winter’s cloak is tattered rags. The white counterpane wore away so quickly. All that’s left are isolated patches of moraine-encrusted glacier. Walking home, late at night, there’s a sense of suspended animation. Somehow this freezing space is freezing time. Still, incontestable imperatives propel the body onwards, comet-like, through cold emptiness, to describe another eccentric orbit.
watching Noah’s ark
crest the horizon
David J. Kelly