Essential Graphic Novels[link]
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Newest
The Most Romantic I Could DoFirst chosen significant other. Weeds beside my Cavalier the most romantic I could do. Just practice was all, the JV for high life hanging out with friends who are ruralThe Most Romantic I Could Do
and uneducated and talk about cars at the Tastee-Freeze.
We need not know
the goings-on out back between the rows of stalks whose husks rustle at night
like a bone dance. In the shallows of thin shadows lingers what bewitches them. The rest of us stay by our bugzappers and we appreciate the warmth.
by ~slather
Making TracksI shiver in the fog, its pervasive cling petulant in the face of the risen sun. I leave the door wide,Making Tracks
the television on.
We fumbled with tracks. Dimpled red pocks will be banana bruises soon. The steel tube's intrusion will dull, yet tell the truth for days.
So I step out, skirt the natty hedge, just some movement in the gloom.
You, ashen on the couch, tied off and purple, eyes fixed on the joist with a fifty-mission stare. I'm still breathing, making tracks before the cops get there.
by ~slather
HackDistant neon shivers to the wail of urban panthers. This cat slinks up Orange Blossom Trail, tail twitches, nose itches with the scent of twenty-dollar oral, bird purses full of moist towelettes.Hack
Drawls on the dial.
The Olde Time Gospel Hour says
pray for the fornicators, the good-time Charlies, the John the Baptist cheese log and the baby with the croup. Swing it around to some ballgame banter, a homerun call...check that...foul ball.
Sidle by used car lots where slack crackers sipping O.E. 800, punch each other for fun, piss on th
by ~slather
into everythingInto Everythinginto everything
This oak drains leaves into the basin of my yard. I work the rake. Sand in the sunset and scorpions blink, foot-long spiders slink like weasels in the hush, their only trace a grain of sand tumbling until it gets into everything. Even the wind will take it, make it scour rock into sand until there's nothing but sand. When this mountain is gone what will shade the oak? What will I do with this rake?
by ~slather
Favourites
Wudhuby ~silver-dragon
Europe, Twenty-SixAnd there, to the west, was a skeleton that wasn’t made of bones and carried no flesh, stretched taut across the skyline and motionless, as if taken surprise by the sudden black of night.Europe, Twenty-Six
We gazed across the city, electrified, two small eyes peering out from the bright skull. You lifted your arm, fingers splayed like dark eyelashes to catch the bright orbs of streetlights on the horizon and cupped them in your hand, like small candles burning, flickering luminescent in the midnight pupil.
by ~RevolutionnaireRouge
Inside the LinesThey arrange in rows, vibrating, anticipating, calculating the first move.Inside the Lines
Decked each in bright colors, look at me look at me, hi mom, do you see sunlight glinting from glinting places around a hundred faces, flush with nervous
waiting, and watching for the signal, and it comes with raised arm and a sharp stroke down, and down the rows the thunder rolls, and so begins the first movement.
by `Memnalar
LatitudesLatitudesLatitudes
These prancing fillies are picked apart and headless; Tiki torches dancing on rooftops bathed in candy while I'm soaked in rum and sweat. We talk the length of the tab, for miles trading eavesdroppings so decapitating that it's easily decreed which one of us is tethered, and
which one of us never learns his lesson; locking on subjects that make the grip tighten while eyes follow paths crossing sights, (knuckles whiten) and the makers of graphs begin tracing their plots to ride lands and set their courses on maps; measured
by `nonculture
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- Favourite poet or writer: today, Auden - tomorrow, Roethke
- Favourite style of art: anything that thwarts norms
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*DailyLitDeviations | *Critique-It | =TheContestClub | *DailyDeviants
Not For Sale: Fighting Human Slavery
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The sea was angry that day, my friends.
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*DailyLitDeviations | *Critique-It | =TheContestClub | *DailyDeviants
Not For Sale: Fighting Human Slavery
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.:§ïlvêr-Ðrågðñ:.
Great, so now I've got nothing worth reading in the forums. Thanks for the borefest.
.
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Breaking entering
The dark and lonely places
Finding a big gun
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The sea was angry that day, my friends.
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Breaking entering
The dark and lonely places
Finding a big gun
you be you , i'll be me and live long and prosper.
cheers.
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The desire for solitude comes with a loneliness only an artist could understand. - Dae.
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The sea was angry that day, my friends.
And delightful, to boot.
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dA is for the literary arts, too.
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