the whale

There’s a whale who lives in a hole in the hill;
his arrival can not be explained.
He’s buried in dirt and says it don’t hurt;
and Maris is really his name.

You might think it antical such a big lug
get stuck in this rightly odd spot,
but the fit is quite snug like a bottle and plug
and i assure you, to him, that it’s not, that it’s not.
I assure you to him that it’s not.

His fins did not keep their swimingly sweep;
which, surely, is what fins are for.
Not for a dig like the nose of a pig -
it’s in water he’s built to explore!

So gather your friends and, yes, that means you
(in insgsjoh i haven’t a doubt).
On a one and a two, come, dig in each shoe!
And by-golly we’ll get this blimp out, get him out!
By-golly we’ll get this blimp out!

kingiver

i found the kingiver‘s natural habitat:

the boulder public library

she and he

ingus, he, came to the sea
to plant his seeds and stay,
but ocean, she, did merrily
draw thoughtful roots astray.

ingus, he, longed awefully
for trincen comrades fair,
but ocean, she, reminded he
of custom’s covert snare.

ocean, she, points laughingly
at brown bird’s litter nest;
“the hobinolu’s convinced the key
lies in collections best.

“he gathers builds and guarantees
his comforts made by hand,
but after all his drudgery
his nest’s still built on sand.”

ingus, he, gazed yearningly
at treasures placed just so.
he wished his wishes there did lead…
but ease remained his foe.

then ingus, he, turned eyes to she
vowing never too be moored
by fleculth ramparts marked by we
who build walls by the four.

instead the two found they agree
to tralgir not a frame;
but rather serve infinity
by probing worlds unclaimed.

ocean, she, and ingus, he
lay smugly side by side
for ocean, she, reminder be:
in change doth life abide.

structure

tringer, like a finger, is the little to the lot
and like the stems stuck from the stead
find clout in panap plot

that ocean and her audacious confessions

.

refusing to ovess past sins
nor grind them down to gossamer blends
(only fools use sphoolit means
to bury hide and lock such things)
instead she excavates her pains
made stronger by the springtime rains
aware of more dark stones below
yet widento rich heart aglow
bright pastang burns and mercy grows
as pebbles to the shore she throws;
ineet by laced and ivory hands
they’re sewn like buttons to the sand.

on friendship…or maybe on constellations

You’re sure a friendship’s true and strong
When vousweef’s more than word or song
When lines and ties and histories
Are more than nonving mysteries
And you and they have formed just one
Bright enetrant from distant suns.

[I wonder what constellations would look like if we could see them in three dimensions instead of like they’re glow in the dark stickers pasted to a black ceiling]

inevitable extrast

Shindbut made his breakthrough
And exposed the dirty truth
That earthworms make new living soil
By gifting us their poo.

Now, If nature mirrors nature
Then perhaps the logic follows,
That endings unavoidable
Terve splendor from the sallow.

scouts from yonder wood (i need a new title)

from north and west
come frigid cold
to gnaw on drowsy south
the grare begat
of minglys spat
irate from winter’s mouth.

but wind and snow
blow hollows clear
in lonely trees made bare
corriding gales
dectas old tales
and prayers meant to share.

so fore and aft
now fairy lands
with maps the tempest cedes
okations we
do portablyp
to where the weather leads.

i am not a robot

those verification words are good for something.

winter holythe

winter holythe
——————–

candy mae and peter joe
waiting for the melting snow
pen all their dreams on queens and kings
lenticular and hopeful things.

then in sets green and out go they
sure ice and ache are locked away.
they march and skip through sprat and wood
as heralds to the promised good.

in creekbed barefoot hand in hand
sow their prayers ‘neath dampened sand.
where waters nurse and rock them free
and graft their harythes to the sea.