When prepping, athletes stretch, chess masters play matches with themselves (or computer AI), and artists keep their skills current–like Leo, who’s always training himself on some new technique or brushwork between projects (and, at the risk of making this into a travesty of a run-on sentence, it was his birthday on Friday, so swing by his FB or Deviantart and wish him well).

For me, I stick with the tried-and-true method of word-barf: sitting down, opening the sluice in my mind and just letting whatever run out. So, in preparation for tomorrow’s edits I’m going to do just that. There will be no revisions, no second drafts, just my rawest blather. I suppose I should apologize in advance.

She wriggles
An earthworm in the dark
Stretching feeble tendrils
Suckling tar and blood
Shat from above
Our leaking sewage

If she is the bedrock
Then we are the soil
Despoiled by the sickness
The thirst for thirst’s sake
The claw of the rake
On land we’ve never earned
But taken

Eagle lays in shattered nest
Beak agape
Eyes milky
His blood the warpaint of a war of fallen dreams
Speckled, scattering, across feathers
Across heavens
as savaged as Mother’s skin

Wounded lake, where Eel floats
A bloated figment of Leviathan
Should be, should roar
But only seeps

Bear slumbers
To not hear, nor see, nor feel
The evil
Wrought and brought
By squealing greed and hungry hands
By upheaved earth and torn bands

Each green hair ripped from scalp
Mother weans in the muck
Where we have left her
We build cement castles over her sorrow
Laughing over the echoes
From below

–Christian A. Brown, 2017

Well that turned into something more political than anticipated. Not sure what sparked that; general turmoil of the world, maybe. Fuck pipelines, and fascists, and terrorists (thankfully my cousin living in the UK and her family who regularly take the route that was attacked are okay). Stay safe, stay loved.

All my love,