Here's one of three poems we wrote this year, randomly, blindly, straight from our collective senses. It makes "sense" to us, wink wink.
heady, reaching for heat
goddammit make me a gin & tonic please thank you
you shall never be taller than me
Applied on hair it would feel Cleopatra-like
A tightness confined it to its small circle, surrounded by white nothingness, but the slight shudder of its breathings longed for escape, for growth
The gift of being given that which I did not have to earn, did not have to endure in order to experience the reward
Dreaming of cold mangoes --
how smooth their skin, how alive
before they're blazing their quiet
And while I watch the sky it streaks, shrieks; illuminated from below, a jet's tail, a gold vapor journey
I can hear the bubbling water down a path away from the house, I hesitate for a moment then run, my Mom's call increasingly loud, trails off, unheeded.
Fish will find food and each other if we don't fill them with plastic.
I bit the shell, it gasped and my tongue melted.