Author: Mike Crowl

The
TITANS (clueless) mixed gunpowder and
YEAST in their expensive secondhand
CANON (they don’t spell well). But the cannon was
LEAKY. After a rainfall the fizzy yeast frothed.

S.A.S. SYstematically shook the shaky seniors, they the
TOKEN of things present yet past, their past seen in a
PRISM of things well- and badly-remembered, like a long-running
REVUE, now a game of two, three, or four halves.

It’s Christmas and while the fridge is CHOCK
full, the blinking Internet on FIBRE
is down. Again. The intermittency last week DROVE
me mad, like standing in a field full of BRIAR.

AWARD
OFFERs me
BLISS if only I can
PROVE I’m worth it.

FIXER arrived to fix the
TOTAL chaos I had caused. He offered me a
CARAT (so I heard) to use him again when it came to cleaning my
TUNIC.

HURRY! I said in a
NASAL whisper as we
CREPT along. Then my toenail caught on the
PRONG of a fork fallen in their flight.

SNOWY outside; the wild wind blows, the
OCTET practices for its next shows. The wind
EMBUEs their sound with aural glows; the
GROUP consists of eight banjos.

HITCHcock, the director, with suspense in mind,
SLYLY inveigled his main characters
ALOFT the Statue of Liberty. One would pay the
PRICE of his misdeeds in a splattering fall.

On the other hand…
James Stewart, in HITCH’s
film, Vertigo, also found himself ALOFT,
fell, and paid the PRICE
in madness, deluded by a SLYLY murderous couple.     

aBUSED I was as a kid, I was never
AGILE enough to get out of the bully’s way. A
MINTY was the upside, a sweetener, once I’d
DRIED my eyes and wiped my nose.

[I just couldn’t bring myself to use the US spelling of BUSSED…BUSED looks like FUSED, to me!]