Ron Androla Erie, PA poet

 

Skipping Confused Stones

Flinging thin mirror shards at mute seagulls

shitting with mosquitoes over the horizon,

cracked plates spin thru slowed momentary

honey dripping from pulled Van Dyke clouds.

Seagulls are breakfast in the natural world.

Mahogany butter edges bubble. Yolk edges snap

lifting active cigarette smoke-curls, & white horses

boned within revolving fog lick gelatin saltcakes off

onion wrists & shriek in their own throats. They splash

out of illuminated Lake Erie water & panic. His dance

resembles their hooves & anxiety. What can SHE do

but stop, walk backward, return to accumulating

roots instead of easy sand? He’s her perspective.

He’s bipedal & bald. Saturated under noon sun,

a magnified vein of a gold laser catches his elbows

on fire, flaring over hairy arms of water. In her mind

he’s a dangerous, reflective, poetic lunatic. She smiles,

successively moistens. She bounces on the back of their

emotional mutation. He feels he’s made of equine ghosts.

.

Ron Androla lives in Erie, PA and has been published/publishing in the underground for an era. Some of his books are here. (but you shld ask yr local bookseller or librarian!)

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