Sneeze Shield at the Dust Buffet

A Sorcerer Stuck in a Blowhole

by Adam

 

Shrimp grasping and tweezing at the obstruction,

remorae giving him some nasty hickies

 

When the judge dropped the gavel,

condemning him to a sojourn below

we fell to his knees in the gravel,

dreaming and dreading the tortures to come.

His legal counsel advised him to grovel

but the admonition was unnecessary.

 

Now his pointed sorcerer hat is salty and damp,

his cloak tangled in urchins,

barnacles on the buckles of his boots,

his staff displaying a tender coating of nacre.

 

 

 

 

 

Untitled

by Evelyn

 

You think, let’s make the sister eat gravel

and then drag her to a ditch.

 

I am happy to be the sorcerer to your decrepit whims.

 

We are stuck here in this flooded shit hole

of a home for debauched children

 

And now one comes up to fondle your nacre

and you are so anxious to begin to grovel

 

 

 

 

 

Untitled

by Carla

 

Adam’s seen in his dreams what grabble

grovelable gravels his girls choose

besides what stuck stock stuck up and down.

Why soured I wanna rome the right?

What the hell sorcerer is that word?

Bah, the rest nacred to death.

 

 

 

 

 

Writer’s Block

by Matthew

 

I’m more stuck than

a sorcerer who accidentally

stepped on his magic wand

while stumbling to the toilet

in the middle of the night.

 

Do I need to blooden my

knees, as I grovel on

this gravel path that leads

to another night ala insomniac?

 

Or, should I write the first

thing that comes into my head

and hope that time will

slowly grind it into nacre…

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Trail in the Forest

by Stephanie

 

She boasted that nacre was her favorite color.

I asked her, “what’s nacre?”

And that’s where we got stuck,

sunken in the gravel and grime.

A sorcerer gave us a potion

That took twenty years to mature.

It flowed and coated us,

we were slippery to grovel

at each other’s white thighs.