It’s January and the storks are in. Calendar prevails and bamboo beaks nab a grit of grain coarsing through the shoot. Seagulls too brood this hourglass. … reflecting pelican pools and gallinule garter the surface… Wood ducks woop and coo amidst clockwork coups History alighting on owly wings A splashdown glide fowling the waters In swirling clockwork twirls
Goodwill Rides the County Line
more than all the beautiful is the sunsent sound bread bands on edgeless cloud break in waveshape and stick to cardboard sines entwine in beards dark of wine littered median rivulet paved plaza blue blooms a typeface loom of coordinate corporate teeth
And
death arrives in oblong boxes wafts a gaspy spanish moss spun thick thinning sickly on tattered plastic doors stuck all about with worn in masks in tape and ugly christian shapes
Banyan Man
just past the block they walk twisted figures. ganglion vines lap up them in looming avenues, veiny lanes soma slurped straw string things
side walk sloping lockstep trot bearing up all anonymous pinning upon a convex sky
Rory Sharp is an abstract poet, doctoral candidate, and former Floridian residing in Toronto, Canada. He holds a Master's in English from the University of Toronto and Bachelor's in English/Gender Studies from New College of Florida. He will never go back.
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