The Flamingo amidst the Kingfishers: The first flamingo stood flustered on the flecks of nethernesss. It was the first idea. But it was the snuffles of froth becoming sky and turning froth again, freshening like fragrance on the gusty palette of fresco rocks. The waters flubbed the flamingo on flippant light, flavid against the nescient blue. And snooty snickers of kingfishers broke unto the grey, mustering after gusty harbors where flimflam flamingo forms would dissolve to the sea’s solvency, and the harpoons of wanderlust could turn only into their thrust, and the golden grappling would wash all stories away.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 18:57:31 +0000
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