I am a gull with triangular feet. My feet resemble the basket I'm carrying.

Losing the Day

 

Losing the day to coffee, altogether altering the makeup of my motherboard, my motherbearing, my mothermail.

Penny Puddles Pendergast.

Day being the blamee. Day sans glory.

Day on the workhorse, see horse, as all that is decidedly yonder floats past.

That bomb is weak and brown. My skydrive is syncing.

Blessed Day, let us liftoff into alterative waters. Its fishes flapping gills made of lace. Dots on the water, holes in the foam.

I am a gull with triangular feet. My feet resemble the basket I’m carrying.

Blessed day, bless you droppers of droppings. Gruff, like my father unbending over.

Elope, day.  Antelope, day.  Envelope addresses.

Excessive syncopation. Hibiscus Abacus.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>