Exquisite Corpse I

by Pigeon, Albatross, Wren, Bluebird

"We don't have the luxury of emotions at a time like this."

A crime, the effrontery of this perfunctory pundit, sets the tone of crisis.

As if fear and grief, anger, relief are not part of the human condition

and we need permission to truly feel during this new age of juxtaposition.

Coiled up and strung out, muscled bodies minted liminal

To transgress the threshold deemed selfish, deemed criminal

They sink into screens, a still life of decomposition 

As their synapses surf waves of toxic retrocognition

It fits, the hiss and roar, the curtailed crashing

Of the dynamic flux in sandy exhibition

They see they’re tethered to tidal ambitions

A lunacy illuminates their splashing and thrashing

One lunar cycle at a time

    they reassess the rhyme

A happy clam at high tide

   crossing animals abide

C'mon then creatures: come weary, come ragged, come you young you old

petals reaching, furries screeching, come nature's wonders, of all folds

Come weary, come lonely, come robots, gidgets, gadgets, galore

together we'll shelter sacred, together evermore.

Bound by the landscapes of our musty hollows

We’ll scamper our meadows, swim our shallows with a vigor 

Glisten in fatigue on each our sunny shore

But don’t look back, keep closed the door, we all know what follows

She pushes her heels into the floor, a stillness syncopation

As the furtive bird songs play chess with the sirens’ longing vibration

A daily dose, another pill to keep her away from whim of the Wallow

But over time, they add up, and out soars the swallow

Pebbles line the shore

The lake mirrors the blue sky

One stone is tossed —

splash!