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Literature Text
I overheard my grandma speaking to an elderly woman with no legs today. My grandmother couldn't stand her. If rushed nods and intercutting uh-huh's weren't enough to clue someone in, the failed conversation closers were. The senile chair-ridden woman rambled--while my grandma ran through imaginary daisies--about how corrupt the world was. This woman found ways to add humor though. I'm not saying she was funny enough for stand-up comedy, but the atmosphere of her remarks left me hanging for more.
"I just can't believe how close to hell today's society is. People just push others to anger nowadays."
"Uh-huh..."
"I overheard two kids, hadto-ofbeen barely 20 saying some of the nastiest things! When things get like this all over, I guess the best thing to do is simply get up and walk away."
My grandma chuckled. I simply stared at her nubs, and shook my head.
"I just can't believe how close to hell today's society is. People just push others to anger nowadays."
"Uh-huh..."
"I overheard two kids, hadto-ofbeen barely 20 saying some of the nastiest things! When things get like this all over, I guess the best thing to do is simply get up and walk away."
My grandma chuckled. I simply stared at her nubs, and shook my head.
Literature
The First Movement
-
I left my lover on the floor,
arms bent like a lamp cord.
He said to me things were
different looking up;
the ceiling was brighter,
my eyes were lit up.
And he sank into sand tiles,
his hands were raw and waiting,
and waiting.
-
Literature
fire, or water
were this blurred, we'd be submerged,
stuck under the waves
with warping colours & corals falling away
from a certain blue surface, where white animals are climbing.
hot & cold climb the same ladder into the eye
and we see everything sharper:
today there are sky-flags, halfway tattered.
browns & sea-thinned greens, then reds & great flames
are traditional
but the starving stag, steaming in the cracked courtyard
says blue is autumn's secret favourite, the colour of bruise & ozone & iris.
a leaf can fall like a cracked mast, or a dead bird meant for the ground
where the plummet loves d
Literature
Mayfly
-
When we were mayflies our wings were
worn from wire screens, but the tentative
beats of your belly chimed like iron.
And it occurred to me that through
the breeze of burning leaves our eyes
were open to wasps and weeds.
-
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Comments12
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That's a mean couple of leg-lacking puns. Humorously evil 
I particularly like the pun in the second sentence, quite subtle.
I particularly like the pun in the second sentence, quite subtle.