Tuesday, July 26, 2022

No Cause for Concern by Diana Magallón and Jeff Crouch

 

No Cause for Concern by Diana Magallón and Jeff Crouch




Even so the tongue is a little member, and 
boasteth great things. Behold, how great 
a matter a little fire kindleth!

  

And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: 
so is the tongue among our members, that 
it defileth the whole body, and setteth 
on fire the course of nature; and it is set 
on fire of hell. 

 

 
For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of
serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed,
and hath been tamed of mankind: But the
tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil,
full of deadly poison. 

                                            James 3:5-8



I have my very own pair of scissors. The pixels claim I cut them, but that is not true, at least not for my scissors.



The lemonade is nighttime. Firefly blue.




Wishful thinking is a matchbox full of teeth. 

Should I drink from the pitcher?



Extinguish!

And we have bagged the kitty litter.



No, not now! Teapot.




Agua. Yet water is often a cause for concern. We move to contradiction.



The trophies collect dust.




Where did we eat breakfast?



These are the pearls.




How to wash the clothing made to wear in the clouds? What are the bubbles of which you speak?



I found the receipt.




Yesterday. In concerto.




Dia. Ta da!



OK. Do we start over? The skyward thrust, a little soft.




Picture of a pitcher. Nimbostratus. Up and erupt.



Stradivarius wiggle in fluorescent chalk. The chlorine continues to clean it.




We were supposed to be there this afternoon. 

But you ate all the grapes.

Wearing whose outfit?




Did the radio play this tune?



Aburridos. Just make up something and call it art.




Winner! You do a victory dance in a parking lot, but the car is out of gas.




Water makes a cloud.



________ attempts to define itself.




Skulls on either side.




The water attempts birth.



Adrift.



Or born again just below the surface.




Turns back. Arms raised in triumph. No?




No? No fiery tongue?




Urn--a cactus.




The cat wakes up.




Soft breeze. Full lungs.




Evaporate.



To take a step.



In the direction of thirst.







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