I've never submitted a piece of writing to any magazine before, but a
few days ago in the wee hours of the night I got some sort of sudden
burst to try it. I went over to Fuselit -- the journal has a
prompt-word for each issue -- then wrote & submitted the following
poem probably within 10 minutes. come to think of it, I probably
should have workshopped it here before sending it off, but there you
go. I like it.
*gull*
offal & foam for a mind,
a hurtler above woos
just about every current.
buck-naked with a badly tuned chisel
for a mouth, this swan-clean thief
knows food when he sees it,
knows the agony of wind trying to smack him
& failing; that's his raucous laugh,
more malicious than a hyena's croak¯
clearer than crystal.
that's his fuck-you swerve.
he'd be comical if he wasn't magnificent,
he'd be magnificent with a meaner step¯
I've watched geese with more terror.
a gull can't eel a plunging neck in attack,
but he's something more:
Poseidon's veering jester,
hatching his plans
from a hotdog's gizzard.
KS
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