• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 05


Our tiny green
tiny green memories sing
like sherbet pips. We slip
into throats with our long proboscis–
sweet as salt, sweet as honey
sweet as tears and ice.
Behind the counter
a  child counts glass jars, asks for
a quarter of feathers & fear,
a scoop of strangeness
& a rhubarb and custard.
Sherbet fizzes like taunts or playground rhymes.
In the corner, Bizarro, the homely magician
teases us with pulled candy & cinder toffee.
Let us reinvent our eyes as marbles.
Let us reinvent our tongues aquamarine & cover
our pale skin with popping candy, a revolution
reflected in the painted eye of a small
green bird.