little red riding hood always knew what she wanted to be when she grew up: a wolf
Tag: fiction
late summer mynahs grow bolder looting and setting bins on fire
smoke fills latex bodies as bronze honey drips from soft walls
found myself a table next to an old god scrubbing the airwaves on an ancient radio
the concave sky cracks under the weight of darkness and meteors pummel the frail earth
the leviathan stops mid flight to take in the beauty of floating seeds the sacred dance of light with pollen
ribs aglow with embers and dying cinders of past sins
a fugitive of my own thoughts as the world around me derails
disrupt is too kind of a word. rebellion sounds nicer
poets on the streets do not care for academia or the laurels of the scholarly kind we write to exist in a world afraid to see reality for what it really is
elancharan gunasekaran 