1. sticky-quaffed hollowmeat slubber revomits creakily-uncracked ultrices puckering-up to eye-smacking blips & ifs doused in sump’n intricately qizarated & unsurjected, unlike snow

  2. Not Yet There

    The tree is intricate, a lattice
    with many moving parts: sparrows,
    robins, a blackbird’s creak.

    The ox in the sky pulls the plow.
    The archer strings his one good
    arrow across the bow. The dipper’s

    hinged against the lip of the grassy well.
    And I have only my hungry heart, my
    wobbly heart: I cart it everywhere I go.

    ~ Luisa A. Igloria
    03 31 2011

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