juno fuil.
Concluding,
name the hegira that wasn't
an abstract work of art
Collating
the ferry rides an eternal
anthesis of mist
Drenched
in cherry blossoms to lure
osmosis / a life
The great white
letting of go with wasp
wings and fists
Statements
freed and made tactical
like Juno
The box
she left in center of the room
Lemarchandy aurora
its contents drumming
a very angry very goodbye
ready girl
keegan fuil.
Once we entered its insides
the abandoned house in Monterey
quickly scaled a sensible danger
most children doodle
Rustic Ginger root & craquelure,
Dracula chased into a mouse
hole Yet it worked
to his advantage
I could see Keegan magnifying
a broad inner scope
Surveying the condemned space;
this boy intuited his own
beak-horned goose w/ sugar
hungry smiles -- this house
he could break & every padlock
today
A paucity of borders; his to mine:
today
tomorrow Today
nico fuil.
Succeeding Pangaea
Titanomachy--
He has gone
behind the frame of the étagère
The patio door--
How long it has been open
I persist with the question
A sweeping sun
the tearing of roads
I fear our world may mistake
the sauce on his face
for post-feeding blood
He is only a child,
I tell the mob disconcerted
by his glee He will only
ever be a child
Kris Hall is a writer and event coordinator for Ogopogo and Da'daedal from Seattle, WA. Author of the chapbooks Dillinger on the Beach (Horse Less Press) and Notes for Xenos Vesparum (Shotgun Wedding). He has been featured in Dreginald, Uut Poetry, The Monarch Review, Pismire, and The EEEL.
