Lo! the pterodactyl hymns
weak lips have hummed
now fall into the boredom
to rectify by blindness.
Hast thou considered
what thoughts adorn
a rotting brain?
In warm rain, we saunter
and dish out little cruelties.
The foolish plebs get us not,
not a single bit. Let us,
for a molten moment, sit
among the table scraps
and reflect upon happenstance.
Perchance some dancing in distress?
Later, much later,
after all the sewage has been drained,
we can make a rather fine mess
of your chamber.

-r. miller


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s