Saturday, October 22, 2011

haibun || Sheila E. Murphy

Stand Pipe Valvoline

A test of ink blots showcased flexitude. She only half grasped
tulip bulbs plastic in the land. One guess or two retracted
tidy wisdom in past tense. Amid refractive shop talk, where
the lines of coast remain as soggy as their reputation. Correspondence
as matter of course. Intuited how people talk about their mental states
as in arrears. What kind of of an announcer has no speech impediment?
The lorry whisks past, people hear their thoughts resist the dark.
A backward pass endorses hesitation by the enemy. I wish I knew
technique. "My bad." I only hope (I dream) that you might overcome
your tendency to let your hairline keep receding. Let's watch the tape.
Let's sip our coffee thick with sweetness. Let's observe an oboe reed
instead. Now the overturn becomes "a close call." I wish the novel I am
reading would just stop. Whose aptitude is this anyway?

Sweatshot, pilot light, new energy called hybrid green

Sheila E. Murphy

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