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the State of Anapamu

pallet
 
If you want readers,

–if you really do–

skip pen & paper,
 
 
Like a stone

and kibosh keypunch,

hunt and peck and hunt and peck and

forget every shade of black and white there is, too, or at the very least smudge it,

and hunt and peck and hunt

a little

employ its outline, and

peck

at most, and then

immediately dry erase,

creating some double-duty diversion to redirect—say:

Look over there! Is that (a) well-aimed bookend coming for ya?

as an unconscious reader is

>this close<

to sub-text

and write in color!

High definition color!

Technicolor

ahh

color!

Code that chrome

poem

and

pantone those

prose pair a’ graphs

and

Tem·pur·ify this tittled

text, and

–f*ck ‘em if they call it graffiti, because is it really?

There’s nothing gray about it, and any true feat involved in an ersatz emoji world,

It’s in Webster’s now

the better.

emoji

The more hue·manity

–the best.

©Karen Robiscoe

 

 

 

 

Grit yer Teeth

hendry's
 
a broken hourglass,

and running the sands of time

so

shore footed, but

<<<<<<<<looking back

I can sea-weed’s a problem for me
 
 

Salt water ducks, too

and it tripped me up…

kelp!

(I yelled)

kelp!

(was felled)

thinking all along

weed-sea

what’s what…

©Karen Robiscoe

Dust Bunnies

This = That

as per Verse

new lyrics…

Lyres Make Beautiful Music

Lyre

e harmony

rejected me

and match dot com don’t mix…

the fb thing

makes my heart sing,

or projectile sick…

the only tingle

from Christian singles,

is damaged nerve in hand

a wound that I

got

going “blind”

–but–

woo! did it feel grand.

the tinder app

is

just a map

for hooking up with nookie

the range of stranger

sex for grabs

ill-suited to the rookie.

so I’ll retire

myself

FOR HIRE

and gimble in my wabe

what the hell

it’s just as well

though I’m a sexy babe.

©Karen Robiscoe

2 ¢

If 1 of my senses

must be impaired,

I opt for the common

since common’s not rare,

keeping the extra-

-sensory close,

perception’s the tool

I rely on the most.

if 2 of my senses

were taken away,

the next would be

text book,

oh aye, & oh neigh

my horse sense would

canter up to the block,

and though I liked riding

I’m okay to walk.

If still yet another

sense would be lost,

incense is the sense

I’d certainly toss,

’cause fresh air is better

–it never needs lighting

is smoke free and sweeter

and much more inviting.

by Karen Robiscoe

daily prompt: senseless