Thursday, June 30, 2016

Sunrise with Sea Monsters

by Stuart Ross

A horse sat down
on the bench beside me.

“Look at the bunny,” it said,
“leaping into the sun.”

Water is very popular. You can see through it. A horse and I noticed it in the distance. We couldn’t get enough of that fluid. It constituted much of us. We became unusually thirsty. When we tried to hang the water on our living room wall, it tumbled to the floor. There it did roil. Aye, it roiled.

Friday, June 17, 2016

Sunrise with Sea Monsters

by Peter Norman 

after Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz

Oh scale-shawled twineye
your undulations call to me
as krill-rimed finblotch
on barnacled monstrosity.

Groupers implore you
from jaw-girdled skulldome
(haplessly hung there
twixt crinkly fangtrusion)

that you decline to rend them
with heaving gobbersmacks
of gangleous codcruncher.
Likely you won’t.

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Sunrise with Sea Monsters

by Ashley-Elizabeth Best 

In the morning's breath of mist I stare at the sea
that tells me nothing. I pound clothing into a scarp
of slatted rock, water seeping into porous stone.

The winds hunted howl of sound disguises his approach.
Calm with experience, my voice slowly breaks out of its
own heaviness.

He's promenading in the hang of blue fog, I conjure
the ground as I walk towards him. He's saying something
about god's that live in the trees but I know only of the sea.
I unbutton his shirt, uncover the wound so beautiful it is
forgotten in its loveliness.

He was smiling in the way I fear, shrugged himself nearer
like a thing waiting to be hurt. A gasp of time, pink forage
made a quick flush on my face where his mouth disgraced.

The tragic consequences of his presence suffocates, nearly
reveals the wealth of hate in me. What was Eve's apple of
choice? This must be mine.

There is much in me to be forgiven. My deciduous memory,
pleasure-flawed in the slow everlasting disease of grief.
I promise to tell him as much as I know.

The life in me trembles to the life in him.