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the sun is a penny in my pocket.

insurance will pay for the crack in my windshield.
because it handles like the big dipper. it was built well. the best cosmic flush. with invisible hands.
crows come from time to time and stand with their steel legs. just to talk of grasshoppers and pesticides and rainbow moons.  but i don’t much care for small talk. so i push them away. i swerve into trees. touch the highway from corner to corner. my tires explode if i go past 90. so i go past 90.
until one crow came. and dug his feet like chalk.  he scavenged his words. looking for a question mark just above his head. he said he hadn’t seen the sky in eleven years. because he lived in thunder ships. and they rarely docked without rain. but it was night. and the sky is up there somewhere. and he said i only needed to go a little faster.
i swerved into trees. those oak ones near the shoulder. i drive without my headlights so they come out of nowhere. i miss. and he is ready to fly. his wings barely open. charcoal streaks.  with his mural of pensive feathers. he stares at fireflies.
i once blinked so hard. i thought i escaped the clouds. there were stars all around. and i was sitting on a ring of dust.
his feet move. mosquitoes behind knee caps. he scratches. and his chalk pours. this is the dance of the dark flamingo. that lives in the dust and rock of quills. his wings extend. we are flying fast. from corner to corner. we are breeding comet tails.
i carry livers in my wings. he tells me. breathe it in through the black ice. prometheus called it love. let’s go a little faster. and give it to the sky.
i said no. i told him he was stuck to the windshield. and there is change in my pocket. that is the deductible.

15 Mar 07

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Crows are evil, no?
 — PollyReg

only the black ones.
 — bologna

The title is good.

The idea of the poem is more interesting than the poem itself.

I'm going to take a little time to think about it more. Right now, it feels like the structure and set up is more important than the things being said.
 — dandy

You are just way too happy with the periods throughout this.  It leaves the reader gasping for breath.  It's written in a very disjointed fashion.  Whether you chose that form on purpose or just don't know any better is hard to tell.
 — Isabelle5

I do love the title, though.  I know you have the intelligence and creativity to make this much better, b.
 — Isabelle5

I disagree wth Dandy. I have read this about 5, maybe 6, times. It is beautiful.

And what is being said is very important.

"this is the dance of the dark flamingo. that lives in the dust and rock of quills" this line almost made me cry.
 — unknown


look forward to your rebirth.


thank you. my creativity is riding a pink elephant. i have pink peanuts.


thank you. very important.
 — bologna

careful with your title. you'll have C chastising you on the moral implications of the sun.
L1 there's a windshield in my crack (yowza)
L2 cosmic flush (price of admission, right there)
L3 sit with their steel legs (sit?)
L4 remove "just"
L5 i swerved. i drive. they come. i miss. he is. he stares. (swerve?)
L5 pensive (overwrought)
L6 :)
L7 lose "like"
L7 comet tails (this image is an integral part of one of the most popular poems on this site. does this matter to you?)
L8 :)
L9 "the" windshield ( rather see possession of it. that's just me )


enjoy the tube 'n beads...
 — unknown

y thank u doll face.

remind me to rub your tummy with honey potions.
 — bologna

i am conflicted with pensive. it is out of place. but i want to have sex with it.

i will replace with an image. o yes yes. yes i will. i may just keep it as my cabana boy.
 — bologna


i have ken's face. covered with pubic hair. have loveless sex with pensive.
just spare the nuptials. hope i being helpful to you. me just stupid clown.
 — unknown

 — bologna

The story is intriguing, the actual execution of it is appalling!  If you sincerely love poetry and the language, give this the respect it deserves, B.
 — Isabelle5

bologna is dating inutile

he is 24 she is 17

i saw the punctuating each other on the back seat
 — unknown



 — unknown

 — bologna

I dig my feet like chalk too. My feet are so damn pretty.
 — unknown

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