flapping sail hiding direction
flap flap
in the flapping direction
what shall be the true wind
the mucous membrane
Lohengrin’s clasping hands
at once answered
the mocking invection
black bird sang his first
song to sprig spring twig
adding sirens & craw-craw call
as well as rattles & clicks
still here they said
chuckling
since
raven doesn’t sing tell: still home
too many green hobbits & so much russia
with the alga of information
sweet bay moneysac, flintheart glomgold
rain that will never stop
& the fun boys with free hang out plots
welcomed to the music box
holodomor
ápnoia
six minutes
wouldn’t i love to have a
blow hole on top of my head
pinnace?
—Martina Gertrude Siebert
