Fevre Dream
By GC SMITH
I'm fractured tulips stomped flat by spry giraffes. My Kentucky bourbon dyed dark chocolate liver screeches enough, damn you. Sociopathic dinner parties, they'll yet do me in. Flippant maidens dab my spitttle with sanitary napkins and giggle. I see red. But then the vague clouds by the sea, shiny beacons, beckon supine me. Cedar trees denser than bamboo thickets block my progress toward the light saving my ass from unseen, but none-the-less deadly succulent flytraps. Perhaps, if I believed in a higher being a twelve step program could be considered. But I don't. I won't. I'll simply hope for rescue by an empathitic emu as a petulant pomeranian will not ever do.
Poetry, prose, and other stuff meant for the reader's enjoyment. Web page at: Click here. My novels are White Lightning, The Carbon Steel Caress, In Good Faith, and Mudbug Tales; A Novel in Flashes, wit' recipes. My poetry book is A Southern Boy's Meanderings. CLICKY My webpage:
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