Sun-struck,
stuck in mid tropic strut, it sometimes stands

as if considering how to cool avian plastic,
dive into the mown lagoon of lawn;
how take flight on dayglow flap-
doodle wings, no matter
if it is ball-bald going nowhere fast.

Joyce Thomas

Mots clés poetry birds summer whimsy flamingo

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Packy watched her walk away, her perfect heart-shaped rear end testing the confines of her tight black dress. There was a God. Packy was now certain of it. How else could such heart-stopping beauty be accounted for? Such a thing could not be the product of a random universe. A flower, maybe. A rainbow, perhaps. But not Venus Versailles.

Quentin R. Bufogle

Mots clés wish-you-were-here las-vegas flamingo bugsy-siegel venus-versailles

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