Thursday, December 29, 2016

The beautiful otherwordly

A wild turkey is quite the sight.  A prehistoric head on a bounty of gorgeous feathers.  A cry to shatter silence for all time.  A ungainly dance.  No epics written inspired by turkeys.  Quite the meal, though.

1 comment:

  1. Crime scenes, redux

    After a day or so too many other marks to say what really happened
    She is back in the city now
    He has her lighter
    and some perfume
    torn pieces of paper

    Crime Scene IX

    Exigent circumstances
    fumbling on the moor
    She acquiesces
    then was cooking
    asks about fennel
    turns the timer over

    cantankerous figure in the foreground
    a sliding about of the unmanned vehicle
    a slickness about the first post to the left
    her necklace missing