the all-spin zone
Tuesday, February 20th, 2018The humble snowboard
sends riders high into the
sky with bold panache.
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The humble snowboard
sends riders high into the
sky with bold panache.
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The brass bumped fists, the
strings tapped bows, and the woodwinds
trilled for no reason.
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The high point of a
great routine is the silent
anticipation.
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Laughing at oneself?
Pre-existing condition,
high deductible.
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Nerves worn and yet still
working, every input a
threat. Sheer exhaustion.
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Like Dubya, he flew
high above the ruins of
his land without care.
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The sweet stuff hangs out
everywhere we shop, ready
to give a brief high.
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Not crickets, but the
refrigerator. Not cats,
but the high street lights.
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Does boredom still come
round when the sun’s high and kids
worship Xboxes?
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The slouch, while somewhat
comfortable, gave way to the
grace of high shoulders.
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Maybe out-of-work
replacement refs can call some
balks or high sticking.
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The sound of high-pitched
drilling in the next room made
her squirm in her chair.
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The champion stands
above others, hand over
heart, beaming proudly.
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The mud is relaxed.
The towels, fluffed and piled high.
Bring us a chai tea.
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Nominees’ tummies
eat high-powered butterflies
for nervous breakfast.
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