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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Skeletons” Down in the Dirt, v188 (the October 2021 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Stardust in Hand the Down in the Dirt Sept.-Dec. 2021 issues collection book		get the 422 page Sept.-Dec. 2021 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Pools

Neil Flory

no no wait it’s still too new it’s unformed it’s still just a blob
a fat smudge I need time to think to ponder to consider oh now
that’s very interesting indeed you’re saying if I just throw
myself into the pool of sticky antonyms well OK here we go let’s
rock and roll let’s ride what’s the worst that can happen maybe
they’ll ruthlessly kick me out of the High and Mighty Academy
of the Proper Poets oh wait I was never a member anyway so
who cares once upon a time in the translucent quiet of the
post-reason age after the old logic had long ago run aground gone
awry like the rusty derelict ship in the bramble-choked river
I was eating a ham on rye contemplating that sweet by and by when
the cat took a crap on the kitchen floor with seemingly a gleam
of mischief (or incoherence?) in her eye well I can tell you nothing
changed smokestacks still filled the sky flies still made those
faint and easily forgotten sounds in the tide of the prominent
discord suddenly the pale green jade hula dancer strapped to my
dashboard became so very distraught that she cried and cried
and fell face down and writhed and sighed in that juicy orange
pool of her own unbridled regrets and two doors down someone
sang fa la la la and next door someone sang do re mi while the phone
rang and rang and grieved and rang and finally committed suicide do re
mi do re mi and I tried to sing re a drop of golden sun but instead
my lips formed what I seem to remember as some sort of question
no specific details come to mind right now just something about
what particular incoherent storms of discord might engulf us come
the morning

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