The hallucinator sees
the contents of their mind
spread out before them,
like dusty old knickknacks
brought up from the basement
and strewn out in the front yard.
Their minds become a
kaleidoscope.
They look at their life
and see themselves
as a miracle.
An accidental poem by this article in The Atlantic.
Volunteer Park Conservatory, Seattle
But the argument
carries on, goes around
corners, crosses the
road, turns back on
itself, and
eventually ends up
somewhere neither
of us has ever been
before–at least,
not sober, and not
during daylight hours.
An accidental poem by Nick Hornby via High Fidelity.
Spokane, WA
stupid city
smells like
fish
and sunshine
(An accidental poem by Andy.)
We yell at each other
until our throats scream.
The words (mean)
and we know it!
It is when we
reach unconsciousness:
we turn into sweet, tame little cats.
Cuddle, we mumble sweetness,
we love with honesty.
(an accidental poem by kris of ZUPAdream)
