>>24571758

#4

Drifting ashore, the circle meets the square.
Together they cry, together they grieve.
Winter took its toll; what can they say?
In their element, yet aimless alone.
Were they a bit stronger, they might survive.

#5

Cliffside I pause, looking down.
Always the air of perfume.
Frightened, the birds scatter –
shifty glances back and forth.
Where does the confusion lead?

#6

Beluga daydreams,
wrinkled nose and rotted teeth.
So says the Bishop.
So says the Pundit.
But the earthquakes will come,
and the floods will come.
And the whole rubber carcass
will drown in the soap.