Ewb

The confused spider
Spun a web so inane,
Flies died happily
Just to be inside her.

She never ate them.
An insect gallery
Webbed without purpose,
Aesthetically static.

The starving artist
Saw the web for its pain.
Dance of a criminal,
Gunmetal breakfast.

Crimson masterpiece
Caught in a crime scene.
It was ruled a suicide;
Never blamed the spider.

Untitled

Blubbery cobbler
Moist fork


by Emily Leik

Radioscope

On top of a bench
on top of a mountain
wishing I could fly.
Just like that bird of prey,
lofting with his time,
surveying, swooping
in for the kill.

I’d give up all the rest for that.

You talk about disembodied
spirits and flying dark and
white energy, polar light
stark, embattled - not
muddied as I
prefer to interpret.

Yonder, there is a radio-
tower man with a
scope of some sort.
I wonder if he is
aware that the condor
flies and vice versa
that the man radioscopes.

Tumbling down a hill these
days, I think about birds and
words much more
than I think about silly
afterlife theories.

Ponies

Little girl duped out
with your pink doll
Loosen the ribbon
Unfold the napkin
Topple the glasses
I’ll croquet to you
In the Oklahoma
June and we’ll breathe
Together after all.

A Blackened Fall

Motherfuckers that skip and slurp
On their merry way to land
And head pressure ping-pong
Reverberating whiskey dance

Cooler is the gust of wind griping
On a cheek as words begin
To echo in the skull

Innocent at first, a tumble of
Liquid inside body tank changes
Equilibrium :: The teacup tips
On a saucer and–










Razors upon
Awakening to freezing
Formaldehyde mask, Bonjour
“Tell Brenda I’m here,
I fell off a bridge.”

Back crack split pelvis
Keep it still and even
And then you inhale this.

Irish Ball Game

Black shot &
McGillicutty Mistress

Floating

You said I said
‘We’re floating on a cloud,’
I pinched but the numbness.
Somewhere, an Indian train.
Tears and raisins
scattered the bedsheets.
Nests of blank pages, no lines