Fin Sorrel writes

Epiphany, Via sound waves

i.

~ Ships are drifting ghosts.

I lie in my bed in the middle of the sea.

Towns pass, full of toy radios at the

harbor. Glass rains down into the cats

eyes. I cry bottles of pinot noir from

above this, watching castles on the

horizon. There, whales bloom

ii.

Flavored bruise, coat in peripheral

within the eye - form loses black spanish

radio broadcast - from now gargantuan,

and ministry of gypsies, so says the liner,

string to hide away iceberg all after

image the scarlet fur coat, like timepiece

importance Arnica for the spine. The air

is parsnip, echoing elegance, the forlorn

The Ship -- Tatyana Suhareva

Fin Sorrel writes

VIXX'S & VOICES

Weave the form

Obscuring the next house of breath

 

Perversions of the spirit spaces you call depths are being
systematically Angelica Cleansed

     Christ,          for     eleven days    hunted

                                     I go to the refrigerator to eat
                             something warm, but it is empty, and
                             I am full of air cells growing into
                             parts of my skeleton.
I am wearing a pair of my jealous knees / luscious
Wearing       oh,    jealous, jealous
titanium skulls/

         I purchase a ticket

A surveillance film on my clothes, in the moss Veranda

  

Flamingo Walk -- Bradley Theodore

Fin Sorrel writes

MOSS/ LICHEN

Helium Griselda lying in a switched radio

sunset   Flight

over    badlands, over clouds ~ helium Griselda

Shapeshifter of orange jewelry

                setting her platinum body

             into the glass cliffs~

Haven’t touched whales to ceiling in a long continuum,

fluctuating between clock hands, white clocks and roaming

room, guitars flying in the sky canceled out ~

Sky fly by

on a tricycle

shallow

pool of voices

I swim in ~ Motorcycle-paste-to-paper

climb

down

rocks,

                  all    along

                  snakes nest

                  1 & 2    & 3,

         expect delays & Tea formulas

          drip-pressed  flower/  stomach  /  mind

Pink fight fishing a swim on

a pants leg in a rage to capture

Madison/  Milwaukee  /Chicago

ninety four

   Cleveland/ Erie/

eighty six times thirteen

Randolph

          Further looped

     Sounds    turkey

     That the shooting

     Lifted steady crank smoking

Hand and pulley

these shoulders

Through elbow to open the

Bird cage

Out the swans and ghosts come, the closet

spins its wheels, spun when you reach the wheel and the

mechanic

Hand turns, unlocks ~                  a secret lake

in the walls of our house ~ where the swans go to

Wander these slaves, buried beneath the

Pencil thin orange taste in the furniture   inside of

strawberry paint, that opens up the broken down house walls

on a hillside, only at dawn this ~ is witnessed

       We’ll meet there

       Beneath the

Sample shelf crossed

bones in the metal sorry

      Meadow and ships rotation

      The moss spider wheels back in the sound

      Of breath

      Oozes flowers from her eyes and mouths and nostrils

      Dripped pumpkin saliva, reflect doorknob pinstripe

   neon

In the peaceful warm soup of the compost sequel two

sundays: (of) Sarcasm

centaur floated in the garden

peopled with children who play basketball, saw blade season

and leather painted doors ~

       Top down at the tower of Pizza. Peppermint sunlight

     ~ and moonlight. A moonstone

               horsey

                     rides

     Through the ocean at midnight ` Squid that rummage

  through boxes in my memory hide there in the fuzed

  blue glow ~ A distant morning ship

     A keyring nausea takes off clothes, and lifts up the

  bodies from the snake infested terra cloth

    this winter hands from a chandelier now~ fly trap

 line paper ~ Sinks shannon the roses

    in gypsy flowers climbing on the porch steps ~

 

 The Patient Griselda -- Frank Cadogan Cowper