Yes, I listened to a Christmas song in August. “Thank You” by Pentatonix Oh, Lord, it’s been a yearWith little joys and little fearsIt’s finally here, Christmas dayMy love, I need some hopeA little faith, a hand to holdIt’s awfully cold, Christmas day —Watch the snow fall down like me sometimesBut you pick me upContinue reading “A Song to Thank You”
Tag Archives: poet
The Aliens Are Unionizing
Baskets woven by alien women are still just baskets and eons went with no one asking for equal pay across the planets, “How dare they,” Matila mutters one day, “pay us less for our work?” So Matila forms the galactic guild of weavers, every Sunday they meet to discuss payment in yen but no oneContinue reading “The Aliens Are Unionizing”
Don’t Be
don’t be perfect like a crisp little cookie; cuz if one crumb cracks off, leaving you 99% and no mercy, Your Perfectness knows there’s an infinite supply of numbers
Desert a Friend
All the want in these veins could water the earth and build forests from the dust grow meadows from the red mud rust — I have wandered through the dry but my tears keep me alive carve a track to take me to the seaside, maybe six years from now I’ll arrive on a quietContinue reading “Desert a Friend”
Opinion Onion
I aired my onion and it lured out your tears; so sorry ’bout that.
Mindblowing
The mad scientist keeps brains in jars, but sometimes they open the lids and exhale on the minds a little fresh air.
Raw under the Water
It’s brutal out there–take a clue for the kooky kids, a guide for the wild life, open up a minds to a mysteries sky; do you feel the eyes of how they perceive you molding your skin to the mask of your hide,
duckies in the snow/flakies falling to the flow
The stream’s iced over and the fishies rove safe in the shadows from hungry plover
Storm Call
you ever wondered if you could eat lightning, then leak it between your teeth like crushing consonants, what words it would make?
Seizing Sunlight
Planet of mine, I don’t know why we speak like you can hear us and answer in our tongue–we are the children of your dirt who haven’t touched home in generations, we are the choir of your winds,
Jordyn Saelor 