A Hundred Gourds 2:2 March 2013
: current issue : haiku : tanka : haiga : haibun : renku : expositions : feature : submissions : editors : search : archives :

page 10  

Alice's Night

sinking into my skin a chain of yellow teeth

days shorten a rattle of a chain from somewhere

the first tinted leaves I'm a bone

ten billion cells hardly a language left

as the turning point approaches a handshake

small winds gather to larger ones the dog yawns

“I do understand” a spider dries up behind the sun

this could be a paper ladder the label says not

the minister took the name Lamb the rest is Chinese

beads of blood from a stone this hissing song

between falls still a clock to wind

“let me do it” a rosary of dead stars

everything is bigger there and the dogs

“I call it blue, kinda” death is upstairs

a shining mountain it's people that brings darkness

guns talk democracy for billionaires

where Alice stepped in a squashed frog

“it could've been on a Sunday” a rope dangles from a cloud

Johannes S. H. Bjerg & Giovanni Monte


: previous renku : renku contents :