(no subject)

[uncheckedxdandy]

deena is an amazing poet. see as follows and soak up her babies:

solver (teleport the ping pong ball)

She said "ceilings and fans, tile and grout. tomorrow
is strawberry lollipops. the waist and
bosom burned from the hand and head. delicious
bubbles filled with fresh babies floated, we watched
and tasted them. the waist and bosom healed,
but searched longingly for hand and head. glue
turned into statue, then back into glue.
we waited for the statue but then the

children appeared. the children of buttercups. Abruptly-
as if a new tube of saffron paint exploded.
then we were filled and floated. in the grandparents
there were wrinkles of urine and jaundice.
they showed us their bones! i threw up. urine
to puss to blisters. but the blister milk soothed.
shhh the bonsai tree appeared, the-
bonsai tree. it shrank, became teensier than

the children themselves. i love miniature.
tennessee was the flattened pancake in
our dreams-and there was a squirrel there. did he see
that image on the pier? the open bulge, sore, bulge. so static
we thought he would die. Flash. In the grass with no buttercups
clear, glittering drops fall from him, so static
for a moment i thought he would die and
then he did" I asked her why, and then she died too.