If America is a battleship,February 3, 2009 at 7:01 pm | Posted in prosepoemthingy, writing | 10 Comments
Tags: writing for fun
Let me be an island, a lifeboat floating between Asia and Antarctica, said F, standing in front of a vast array of blinking lights, labelled in some strange language seemingly made of interrelated sounds like Centaurius blinking vaguely blue on the horizon, off chasing horses again,
You really have no idea do you, son, said the old man reaching for his hat. Perfect! Put your left flipper on this here lever marked Morrison-Huxley Effect and pull.
Ha, you are so full of hot air, blowin’ straight off the Sirocco, empty breezes and silhouettes, riffs caught on a cold ‘trane to the cattleyards of Roma.
rifts like explosions pluming off the top of the Great Wave of Kanagawa, that tattoo they think is random done in real time. Haha, go chase those horses as the deck lurches and he launches.
Stop scratchin’ your arse son, he whispers, here she comes.