A
Cat’s sat and slaps a cat flap.
Small hands scratch cat’s lax back.
As a snack, cat laps at salt and clams.
Cat naps as dark slays day.
Cat plays a harp as sharp as all glass shards and plays and plays as a glad day dawns.
E
Melted cheese feeds plenty when stretched evenly.
O
Good folk knock on wood for good boons,
Or to stop sorrow or to stop doom.
Old forms of voodoo, of mojo,
To bond wood ghosts to good moods.
Don’t mock folk of good honor,
Who know gold sooth.
Don’t follow folk of low honor,
Who fool good folk for gold.
Good folk don’t chop strong roots,
Slow to grow, long to form,
To grow short crops for gross food.
Good folk boost strong roots for bloom,
To blossom on tomorrow’s morn.
U
“Guys, trust us, plum rum’ll fuck us up!
Chums, pluck up guts, drum up ruckus, gulp up drunk fun!”
I: “This fish is pink”
This fish is pink.
It flits, it skips, it spins,
Its pink fins hiding its pink gills,
Its pink lips lining its pink grin.
This pink fish twirls, whirls, flips.
Its swimming highlights its striking tint,
Its pink frills – swirling silk skirts.
This pink fish flicks, it whips, it winks.
In mint fish, Pink instils distinct, diminishing blight.
Whilst Pink’s skin is vivid, mint fish skin is dim.
Pink grinds mint fish livid with its glinting, shining, light.
Irking mint fish with its skittish swimming,
Riding thrills whilst strict mint fish sit sighing.
“Grifting dimwit!”
“Stinking nitwit!”
“Pink hick!”
“Shrimp prick!”
Pink’s mint kin spit insipid criticism.
This Mint fish, which is Pink’s glib critic, slights Pink, flinging stinging philippic.
“It’s Pink! Dirt-lifting, filth-stirring, ship-sinking Pink.
Which limping whim,
Which frigid gimmick,
Which grifting din,
Is it this pink witch inflicts?
Smirching middling, mild fish whilst living with gilt, illicit mirth?
This pink thing is sin.
Its mind is sin, its hind is sin,
Its fins, its lips, its frills – SIN!”
Night rising, night sinking, this tiff, this fight, this fish schism, grips Pink.
Night rising, night sinking, Pink’s still living.
This night, tidings twist.
“I think I risk nil insisting Pink ditch this hill.
This mild, timid, civil hill is thick with pitch-pink itching.
I think, rid this district its pink fish!”
Mint fish grip Pink. In whizzing skirmish, pinch Pink, kick Pink, rid Pink.
Pink drifts skint.
Pink sits in silt.
“I wish, I wish, I wish…” Pink thinks.
Pink didn’t chirp, didn’t spin, didn’t grin.
Pink is firm in sitting in silt.
In this swilling, swishing, sticking silt.
Wild krill swim.
Krill sight Pink’s plight.
This dispiriting sight.
Six krill sit with Pink, pitching this trip:
“Visit Wish-giving Ibis.
It is living high, with cliff-tip vigil.
Its wish will fix this nihilism.
Its wish will light this victim’s spirit.”
Pink’s insight isn’t limiting. Its inkling is Ibis isn’t wish-giving.
If it isn’t wish-giving, whilst this trip isn’t pith, it isn’t limiting.
If it is wish-giving…
If it is…
If it is…
Pink flirts with this thinking.
Pink mimics this lilting krill list,
Shifting its spirits with jig, with trill, with wit.
“I will visit this Wish-giving Ibis.
It’s living high, with its cliff-tip vigil.
I’ll risk this trip with twisting swimming,
With this wish I’ll fix fish living!”
With pip, Pink springs its trip. It swings, it spins, it rips.
Its swimming whisks swirling spindrift.
In hiding, slinking mint fish sight Pink’s Ibis-finding flight.
Pink swims.
Pink swims.
Pink swims.
Pink swims high. Pink swims swift. Pink swims stiff.
Pink sights Ibis’ cliff.
Pink swims in tight snicks in this climbing cliff.
Thin slits split this cliff in winding limbs.
With skill, Pink slips ‘twixt wilting sills, splinting twigs, chilling binds.
Pink swims ‘til it sights crisp, singing light.
This split, in this cliff, is lit with intrinsic light.
Wish-giving Ibis is in.
Pink grits its grin; it girds its fins.
Clinching its will, Pink sprints in.
Pink’s sight hits its limit, iris-blinding light is shining, filling this cliff.
Wish-giving Ibis glints with this bright light.
Twilight bird in midnight skin, it lights its vigil, its cliff, with wisp, milk wings.
Pink wrings its wrists, its lips rigid, fright knitting its fins, its gills, its frills in pink stitching.
Pink thinks its wish.
“Vim, zing, swish!
I will gift Pink’s wish!”
Mint spills in this cliff.
“Fright-filling Ibis!
High-living Ibis!
Night-ridding, light-bringing, wish-giving Ibis!
I wish Pink’s wish is zilch! Is zip! Is nil!
This pink wimp’s high jinks split rifts in fish
Its pink fins, its pink gills, its pink grift,
Its wild living!
It smirks, it slinks, it skimps,
It tricks, it whiffs, it frisks.
Pink’s illicit id inhibits its wish in bringing bliss!
Wish-giving Ibis! I insist! Dismiss Pink’s wish!”
Ibis sits. Ibis thinks. Mint instils crisis in Pink – Will Ibis dismiss its wish?
Ibis lifts its wings. Ibis grins.
“Mint fish, which wish did Pink wish?
I’ll rid Pink’s wish if Mint picks right.”
“Did it wish it is rich?”
“It didn’t wish it is rich.”
“Did it wish it is king?”
“It didn’t wish it is king.”
“Did it wish its sick, sin-pink skin glints lightning bright, viscid bright, blinding bright?”
“It didn’t wish its pink skin glints lighting bright, viscid bright, blinding bright.
This is it!
It is Mint’s wish I dismiss!
It is Pink’s wish I gift!”
Pink sighs, smiling with its pink grin.
“Mint fish, Pink fish’s wish is this:
‘I wish mint fish finish disliking pink fish.
I wish it is implicit living pink isn’t illicit.
I wish, I wish, I wish I find living
With kind ilk, with kind kin, with kind fish.’”