Duck Part 2 (Andrew Galan)

Posted on October 4, 2011 by in Heightened Talk

Two six-fingered blue arms loop around black, black, black boiling ink. It should not gawk; but with toes pigeoned around night’s dark dirt, the storm-cloud to salmon tulip is an open mouth, a bare lightning eye, and leg gloom paint. Amidst the stems, the thorns, the flowers, with venetian pupil, away marches mechanical periscope. And the birds look back as they move forward.

The small brown bird single-eyed throws up ack — ack — ack — blue, turns away, arches over thunder-head. The mono grey-eye hairy holds out his pea-cock gift that spews skin and dribbles agua as a whale gushes right across the sky behind a nearer hollow-eye grey owl; its tubular feather vision crimson within low-light sights. Amidst the stems, the thorns, the flowers, with venetian pupil, away marches mechanical periscope. And the birds look back as they move forward.

Her eye closed, blush ribbon on white neck in symmetry to tight stripe top, flesh firm under night air, lips parted, no smile, no grimace. His eye, agape with the jaw of the cetacean, brushes in long strokes that carve her shoulders. Her arms stretch the scene beyond her hips, toward lightning and thunder, toward a legless beggar dog droopy eared, tongue panting huh, huh, huh — red. Amidst the stems, the thorns, the flowers, with venetian pupil, away marches mechanical periscope. And the birds look back as they move forward.

The android duck turns back to speak: “Quack — quack — quack.” Fishnets taut from feet held in imaginary heels run up past the cloud over cherry bulb to stretch garters to thigh split skirt, the touch of her abdomen points down around the sky’s diamond. Amidst the stems, the thorns, the flowers, with venetian pupil, away marches mechanical periscope. And the birds look back as they move forward.

Spitting sea, grey owl carries away on head pink tulip bowl posies, its varicose eye does not see the star its beak eats, and the small brown bird, now alight the fowl-robot’s three prongs, speaks of a chocolate beanie clad canine’s grimace — menace — a blood background in the speech bubble. Amidst the stems, the thorns, the flowers, with venetian pupil, away marches mechanical periscope. And the birds look back as they move forward.

 

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