“Reflecting on a Storm Drain” © Bonnie Matthews Brock

 

We the Edible Slugs of Monkey-Mind

When I tap my head lightly, my fingertips
can’t help knowing how these footfalls thump
mycelium networks that indent brain matter
into colloquiums of concussion. Celestial spores

link into a net, electronic ripples racing gossamer
structures in mental wings. All this within the casing
of my hermetically-sealed skull, the fused bony
plates of my noggin. Huzzah! Or better, Geronimo!

I feed as I fall in the fibrous fore-paws of this nut-cased
entity while the fiction outside slides, phantasms
leaking filaments, flitting between insight and foresty-
palatial. Blobs of thought like eyes eddy, float past

until the two carpeted rooms rooting my sub-cortex
people in branches, some sprouting buds, some severed
then sutured into sudden raptures of recollection.
Swing in this twinge of a beginning, full-stop reversal
a sensation sunk into a papa-bear modular chair

without the scarlet fleece of love to surround us. Puffing
our breath, we reverse our hats, cherry-pie gooey
flushed blue into boutonniere badges, an insurrection

of sexual soup in Shakespeare’s tropes. Am I
a real person? Does my instrument of choice pleasure
you in a biblical sense? Funnel us out of unschooled
perversion? Or do we even get to go home this time?

So I barge into the Drunken Monkey, doors banging
open to the left and right, tell them to “smile pretty
for the banana,” and take their picture with my Ultra-
Flex Banana camera. Outside, a newly-minted sun.

 

Bobby Parrott was obviously placed on this planet in error. Originally from a nearby star system, this Poet’s universe frequently reverses polarity, slipping his meta-cortex into the unknowable dimensions between breakfast and adulthood. In his own words, “The intentions of trees are a form of loneliness we climb like a ladder.” Poet, musician, photographer, and teacher, he currently finds himself immersed in a forest-spun jacket of toy dirigibles, dreaming himself out of formlessness in the chartreuse meditation capsule known as Fort Collins, Colorado where he lives with his house plant Zebrina and his wind-up robot Nordstrom.

Bonnie Matthews Brock is a Florida-based photographer, as well as a school psychologist. Her images have been published in Ibbetson Street, The Somerville Times, Oddball Magazine, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, and Wild Roof Journal. Her work is archived at Harvard University, the University of Buffalo, and Poets House in NYC. Bonnie loves to capture, in images, a very wide range of subjects, and to learn and experiment with shooting and editing techniques.