Awakening Barometer Dead Year Bistro Concave
by Mitch Earleywine, Emory Jones, Cathryn Shea, Judith Skillman, Ottilie Mulzet, Frederick Pollack, and Ana Prundaru
The pillow is cool against my cheek, as if I’m not under hot film lights.
Those poems that were largely unlocated weather reports.
We are all so much fertilizer, food for worms.
Autumn bears its ocher stamp.
Would you like a tryst with your tea?
Beneath bridges I look for a justification, welcome paralyzing nuances of lies.
He sliced the sheep’s heart right at the aorta.
Note: This is a different version of an exquisite corpse with no restrictions. Each poet contributed a word for the title and a line for the poem. Everything will be organized according to whoever responded first. The resulting poem can be a little chaotic, since each poet does not know what has been written or what will be written.