I spoke to the green gull
That forth cometh through the window like road kill,
The strange bowler hat with deep fried pickle grease inside.
The queen of the sea devours sailors;
They go off into a mad teacup
Of distilled essence of the life that never ended in
a spaghettifying mummified cat carcass buried in the walls of your pelvis.
The golden wings of the princes sick of transforming straw:
The great crow squawks,
Squabbles, squirts, and scopes indetermined mind over matter,
Disintegrates into a drop of mercury sliding down your throat.
A collective, blind poem by Jason Abdelhadi, Lake, Patrick Provonost, and Vittoria Lion, played on March 18 2018. Written in turns, only the last word of each line was revealed to the next player.
Ottawa Surrealist Group 