the new new prophets
Sunday, September 30th, 2012Their cries of doom warn
that the end times are near, that
the future will be … meh.
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Their cries of doom warn
that the end times are near, that
the future will be … meh.
• • •
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Grunge playing in the
elevator, Soundgarden
in the garden shop.
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The bride’s side and groom’s
side fanned themselves. The players
kept the tunes going.
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Master and canine
set forth on the trail, happy
to hide in the woods.
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The bartender showed
us his preferred brew, but we
knew the taproom well.
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Yellow molehills dot
the turf to interrupt the
ongoing action.
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“Autumn is a sec-
ond spring when every leaf is
a flower.” — Camus
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He would look up from
his cup to see her gazing
softly at the trees.
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Horses with dazzling
manes sweep in on blustery
winds to transform all.
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The break room seemed much
quieter after half of
the floor was laid off.
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Dusty matted scraps
reveal stained subfloor rolling
in uneven waves.
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She planned and sewed to
cover her curves. Barely. Best
Halloween ever!
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The townspeople found
their spots in the square, children
laughing and pointing.
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The chosen kept a
humble presence, except when
facing the unblessed.
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Even the dog plopped
down to snooze, paying no heed
to the yard’s squirrels.
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