Drawing and photo by Emily Metcalf
Orion
I found this poem on a small pad in my pen box, written almost a year ago and forgotten.
Dancing partners ejaculate on the strings of the marionettes,
Patterns of jugular icicles mutate with the sun's oralation.
Announcements of kinds of jellyfish in my ears...
My nose growing to a tune of Handel.
Nonetheless, Orion is bright and bubblegum stretches Saturn's immensity into my room,
And around the dishes.
My book "Glass Slippers: A Journey of Mental Illness" is now available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online. You can also contact me directly at [email protected] Follow me on Instagram for writings @moonflickerstone or check out my Blog, www.welcometothegrit.squarespace.com
More by this author
More from Community
Seven Clowns Before the Explosion
This is what it is all about, he knows: improbability. It is the joke that this whole circus is built around: a tiger, an elephant, a hot air balloon, right here in Des Moines or Indianapolis or Altoona. Seven clowns and a monkey piling out of a car, one after the other in a tangle of funny shoes and makeup and hobo clothes, and just when you think there surely couldn't be more room in that car, here comes another one.
Sep 14, 2015
Atmospheric Changes in the Theater Monday through Friday
What's different about audiences every day of the week, you ask?
Aug 26, 2016
The suicidal tendencies of my neglected notebook
My notebook wrote this to me recently…
Jan 10, 2017
A tale of two bordering nations
For the people from either side of the border – there is no border. There never was.
Apr 22, 2018
