Fable of Commensalism

Our wits have been read,

And so I instead,

Have proclaimed,

Something

Could be –

Ran amuck

So much stuff

That I can’t puff my

Chest out

Like a quarreling dove that can’t see

It’s mate flew

To

Another tree.

Projections could’ve been in the works,

Anger undisturbed,

Never faulted, misunderstood,

Only to switch up directions,

Mind-numbing from the scope of attention –

So that some of those snails

Crawled into that

Bag

From frresshh, the islands you’ve seen,

Crawled to death,

Only to be fed,

A textured bed,

Of saline.

In which they could no longer seep

that sweet sea breeze

round the lungs

down to the diaphragm,

in

circulation.

They got trepidatious,

osmosis despondent on

some, sort of variation

scream – shrill – laughter

thrilled, basqued, and shatter

in the burn of the heat

shelled, after the bag

before the pot

hits the burner

of the stove

no one knows

why it has an air fryer.

The snails from the heat

either lofty after, sweet

rotting deaths

determines their necks

are imploding in-to

weak

will-of-course

so they stop short –

very few cry,

all the more time,

to delight for some

sharing

of laughter,

recant some former morbid banter,

stay alive, only for a viewing

of the next course,

vie to see

if sea-snail life

could ever persist

for a moment longer

swiftly, not stronger

on the

right

side

of the

chopping block,

served, with a cup of tea.

Hopefully dismay,

will keep the snails around to say,

“Maybe the next course won’t be so salty, eh?.”

Inspired and sluggish,

a snail quite;

grand in gestures, per say

Was then served on

a bed of hay;

the poor man’s

mattress they say..

Weevils embedded,

And so instead did –

this man decides to eat

the bed,

Including all-that – hay. 

There was snails in his salt,

in the bag, when he gandered across,

how? could this be?

Suddenly daffodils

fall! from the ceiling

a massive bonsai tree crashed,

only revealing

floral scents of gardenia

prevailing

by! like a perfumed breeze.

Suddenly a mouse caught ten

Wheels of Cheese -spent!

There was herbs in those cheeses, you see.

Say no to pickles, I like

Olives, no fickle –

squishy crispy texture

I can’t understand

But proclaim to a man

shot in one hand

then chooses pickleback for chaser,

Sour, you chose.

I’m more briny, verbose

in scope

of my

delectable drinks.

Withering vanes know,

I have no chase to go,

The deers come

to my front yard

when it rains.

If the spirit of adventure,

is at it

in lecture,

I suppose gaia’s green

earth is dispelling

claims

high-narry

ways

instead

of a new set

of strings.

archaic and accidental;

so spoke the mantle,

that would normally carry one’s

pair of keys

venturer sojourn

blew the car horn –

every time

a truck 16

would pass and he’d

find another wheel of cheese –

discus for tongue, you’ve got it all wrong!

spider recluse?

browned, of some use,

are poisonous in threats,

they’ll eat off your leg

in one bite

that punctured,

with it’s captivating

pair of incisor teeth.

Fueled a flame,

bacteria in vein,

then caused a knee to lose 3.

Slow burn, crawl

enthralled by it all

a bite

to note its existence

and so installed a spider that all

but found a clock to gawk

and watch hours slip by in agony

only for pain

and stubbed-toe rain dance sway

at the limp foot

the ankle that hooks

to swear

practice is only for stability.

But birds

eat these spiders too.

Snakes.

Microbacterium can kill them.

Probably even the same, found on the moon.

So, before too soon.

The dinosaur crawled,

genetics survailed

thoughtful heir

to

a killer queen

auntie t-rex

is pretty spent

moving jungle trees

around for a rest

at least just the neck

my arms hurt even if they’re tiny.

She shares.

Yet she screams

and she roars

and sublimates to pass

a few eternities

and instead wakes with dread

she looks to the reflection pool

only to find a hen,

staring back,

auburn locks

and ivory tips

that draught! like

the ultimatum!

Time becomes slow!

Because everyone knows

dinosaurs walked

so chicken hens reign

their ingenuity

enthralls others

with

migraines!

Wicked extension,

I caught my head suspension,

teatherd, tattered, and torn,

I ripped it off myself,

follicles spelt

and as my head imploded

and all that was noted

a color

like

chartreuse.

Enhanced with green,

toxicity, slimed!

beyond capacity,

where the hell do eggs born of game and search occur

that the auntie-t rex

stirred

for 600

to say,

66 million

years,

without quick search, a

guesstimate from the brain

served as salted hay,

on a platter, and thus did scatter

the chicken hen

that shattered

when she saw the plastic bin

of rotisserie

wins

and that’s what came after

the achaeopteryx

they, flew to the sky

grew feathers

said bye

and suddenly hen is dinner.

Darwinian dismay,

golden finches,

near the bay

of the

galapagos.

Islands once sought,

if only I had my glasses to see,

brighter and clearer

the finches and the cardinals

neither

know what it is

that

always smells

so

much

like

amber.

By then the Canadian flock of 10,

shows me otherwise,

geese gone graven, craving

advice:

let a silly goose fly.

petrichorarchive

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9 responses to “Fable of Commensalism”

  1. This has a highly imaginative stream-of-consciousness flow with some very effective wordplay and signature vivid imagery. It’s adventurous and epic and really cool, Sam. 😊

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    • Oh thank you, Mike. I don’t really use the term myself to define my writing but “stream-of-consciousness” with addition to Ginsberg ethics, is pretty much how I write regardless the genre or formatting. I can’t finish a WIP for the life of me, I always one and done. This one is interesting. As I’ve accepted not every piece is or going to be a masterpiece, I must continue to write. So usually it’s something funny, symbolic, or cynical in nature.

      “The Spectacles” by Edgar Allan Poe is a big inspiration for pieces like this. (Funny Poe, is quite funny; we all must agree) Very different, but the excited stagger and flow that moves like Beethoven’s 5th to 9th is what I love. I even used exclamation points!! Descriptive imagery I learned a lot from another short story of his – “A Descent into the Maelstrom.’ One of the first works of sci-fi to date, and a comedic short story about losing your glasses. I still hold them in my mind frequently while writing. Though I usually pertain to the darker side of writing, I do enjoy the more light-hearted stuff. If Poe could pull off a humorous story like “The Spectacles” and initiate an offering to a genre that hadn’t been named yet – I’ll take it with a grain of salt and admiration as I’m exploring what works for me as a writer.

      This one though, I wrote completely out of order. Very little minute editing, but lots of cutting, copy, and re-arranging to get it in an order that made sense. While I was looking everywhere around my room or otherwise to Keyser Soze some inspiration into my writing. It’s either this or give up on the blog and stow it away, until I become a “serious writer” [again, if I ever have been]. At least I’m still writing. For that I’m grateful, as well as your kind reviews, Mike. Thank you.

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  2. You’ve given me a couple of Poe stories to check-out, Sam. I’ll look into them, for sure. I’ve read some of his works but not the two mentioned here. Thank you kindly for the heads-up. 😊

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    • They’re worth ya time!! Especially “The Spectacles” it’s my favorite short story but for more classical Poe, I choose “Bon-Bon.”

      “The Fall of the House of Usher” series on Netflix did an impeccable work of this lil universe of all-things Poe. The more I watched, I was picking up more easter eggs, allusions, and tie-ins between pretty much all of his writing, everything, they got to everything when it really came down to it… anyways, worked out [forcibly choosing, with gracious intent] getting gifted his hardback anthology when I was 13 as a Christmas present and reading it all the way through. I never finished “The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket” in that physical hardback copy, but read it previous years before. So I’m good to go as far as Poe, and any Poe related propositions of potential perusing of his poetry or otherwise short-stories can most definitely be verified with vindication towards preposterous claims.

      Anytime, Mike.

      You’re welcome.🐦‍⬛

      (I first learned to love Mike Flanagan works through the Netflix adaptation of “The Haunting of Hill House.” Based on the book by Shirley Jackson. Another vital inspiration in my writing and my life. It has THE BEST jump scare I have ever came across. I lost a 100ct sour cream and onion pringle can that night the first time I’d seen that episode, while my dog delighted in -free-floor-spice-snackies. Gets me every time and I watch it every year for Spooky Season and sometimes to sleep. –+”Shirley” is a film adaptation starring Elisabeth Moss, that takes a sort of “portrayal” of her process while writing “Hangsaman.” I was already a lingering fan procuring copies of her work but also read “The Lottery” in class for 8th grade. It was one of the most excited moments I had amongst my favorite teacher-ever’s class, otherwise all of school. I’ve got fresh and annotated paperback copies of both books now, at least. I’ve mentioned a few times about her, but you’ll get more detail with time 😄)

      [I’m rabbit-holing now, but what can I say that Mike Flanagan dudes must have good taste in writers haha]

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  3. I just picked up the Kindle edition of Poe’s complete works so I can explore in more depth. Also got Lovecraft’s complete works (both for $1.99 each; I already had all of Lovecraft’s stuff but it’s currently inaccessible in my storage unit). A lot of wish-list material; too few simoleons… I’m a big fan of Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” (who isn’t, right?) but haven’t read anything else by her. I’ve seen an old film adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House (the 1963 film The Haunting) but none of the others. You’re lucky to have received Poe at 13. (Hm…there’s a poem title for you: “Poe at 13.”) 😊

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    • Oooh, very nice. I am very supportive of the picking up of the Kindle edition of Poe’s complete works. Looovee me some H.P. Lovecraft. I also have his b&n hardback special edition, they were on sale that Black Friday. I never finished it though. Lovecraft is more of a “chaos selection of fate” where I thumb through it and whatever it lands on I start reading. Ironically I do this with the Bible and psalms.. huh. {I don’t remember what it was named but I started a niche-cult fan following of this tamagotchi-esque app where you’d raise a Cthulu from infancy in my town. It seemed to spread in lore and they’d always say they got recommended by their friend and how their friend learned about the app from a friend… that could be traced back to some “really weird, kinda like deeply quirky Asian girl that keeps showing everyone on her phone that she’s raising Cthulus every time she’s in the circle…” my face in horror as I traced the lineage of expansion throughout ENC all the way up to NYC and down to Florida amongst roadtrips. Mini-games included. It was so fun, I gotta look around for that again}

      We loooveeee Shirley. The 1963 film was a favorite of my childhood.. what led years later to being like “Hmm, Shirley, Shirley, Ms. Jackson… hmm I enjoy her and her name seems so familiar.” Thus started, the a-long-waited hunt 😎

      I take this as a challenge, and I accept your request. Consider “Poe at 13.” a WIP (I really will get around to this one.)

      But yeah, it was one of the last “Full Christmas” my family had together. My sister and I are the youngest in the family, kids were growing up. My parents are pretty traditional so once we were in highschool, working, etc. we stopped exchanging gifts but maybe some thoughtful like “The Gift of the Magi” type predicaments where we really just noticed someone wanted something specific or it was important or a special interest. Between a Filipino/Southern family – “I love you’s” are hard to come by, but gift-giving goes down pretty well in love-languages with blushes and kind one-liners that mean “Thank you for thinking of me.” It’s pretty cute. Usually not for a ton of coins (unless it’s my Mother but she knows we shop the sale) but a sweet, unexpected surprise.

      I also got Shakespeare’s works that day. I’ve talked about how I feel about that guy, but it was a nice feeling being prepared in class or doing homework and I didn’t have to use a photo-copied pdf or rando website screenshots printed. How’d I’d take notes was always a chaos annotated version, then a written up, clean and structured version. Eventually getting to the work. Many stages, but would usually do the trick for my learning style with retained clarity at the end. For a mostly NC education in the later years, my teachers and staff did their best with the means available and what they could afford to come by. My old printers driven to death by fruition, took care of the rest.

      The Divine Comedy was the last purchased hardback that day, and the only ones (four) I have in my collection of b&n hardback special editions. I hold that one sacred and have never read through the hardback, only skimming. I spent years kinda angling my way into reading-it-through through excerpts, torn books with the cover ripped off in free book bins, random pdf sections, print scrolls found at this occult/metaphysics flea market stall, even amongst certain practitioners and clergy members we’d study sections together for understanding. I’m a Borromeo anyways, of course I gotta take the time to learn and understand some Tuscan guy from Florence. We love a “hot-take” in this family 😅😆

      But yeah, ironically I’m not.. a huge fan.. of reading electronic works for full-scale books… but my dad and I had started an avid Kindle recommendation war by the time I got to middle school. I remember him recommending for years to read Sun Tzu “The Art of War” as far as its implication to military-life and strategy over-arching. I told him I read it on Kindle, then he did. So it was a lot of sharing back and forth that was nice bc he’s the only other one that reads like that in our family. I don’t have Kindle now.. tho I feel.. I should. somehow.. embrace? the digital art-form of readable media??.. hmm, much to gather on this one. [I’m a hypocrite, and I own it.]

      But yes… “Poe at 13.” will be coming soon to a poetry and prose blog near you..👁‍🗨  

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