Carefully

riding the earthen

crests and troughs,

 

a silver surfer with

four rubber feet,

 

feeling like a luge team

caught in an

ultraviolent smokescreen

because eight parts

of sixteen blanketed

the countryside

enough to grease

the well-traveled tar

and to turn the guidelines

colored in cowardice and

purity into invisible drunk bumps,

 

a washboard of thud-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d,

 

recursive white noise

circling around a

central axis guiding

and redefining basic

trigonometric principles

just like the earthen

crests and troughs

that define the countryside

like a porcupine with nubs

for quills,

 

and the rubber-soled,

silver-surfing luge team

ride the icy sine and

cosine waves like

a porcupine

having coitus,

 

very carefully.

Reviews

[roarke]

So ya say it's a little icy under the snow there? Ya had ta push yer silver pick-up a bit? I'm a bit worried about the porkypine part though.....

Excellent abstraction, creative similes that hit you between the eyes like a slush-ball. Nice writing.