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roadkill on sundays
every mile marker is a wake of someone's fur, hair and bones: the tar of blood paves new roads. when the crow's laugh tolls, roadside daisies nod in respect as vultures overhead mark the dead. whitetail deer turn passerby eyes, nibbling on skeletons of friends and foes while coyotes lurk in loblolly shadows. the blood of an opposum bakes, his sunday smile dead under summer skies: virginia car hymns can't lift him high.
T
THE HOLLOW - Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3 Imana’s face grew flushed at the sight of her father. “What? You’re Horus?” She looked over at the startled Anpu, with his dark fur upright and his pathetic, weak cries tepidly leaving his lips— he probably just peed himself, she guessed. But piss and feces wafted from the den entrance, as such was their world, and it proved hard to discern whether Anpu was already a part of that distinctly childhood smell or if he renewed its freshness. Her nose examined him more closely, then recoiled as his smell soured the air even more. She shuffled her weight away from him, hoping he did not notice. And with his
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Koa Portrait 2018
Koa Portrait 2018
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37
t
the aftermath of a lady macbeth screening
when the professors’ white wine hits me it's raining in the cold streets of prague and i’m sliding around in flip flops waiting for miracles. my band of tipsy travelers convenes under awnings of pubs, searching for the tourist beacon of BED Lounge. in the cobblestone bowels of staré město, a miracle arrives as we reach its doors— though the mood is purple and the air is heavy, lights dance and warm bodies crowd the lounge. a narrow, coiled staircase looms nearby and its white skeleton wobbles under drunken weight. downstairs, feet line the floor with water and stain the bed with mud; i spend 225 crowns on a wh
jackdaw
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201
i
indelible in the hippocampus is the laughter
She said, “the laugh – the uproarious laughter between the two—” and all I hear is my heart beating a question, ‘Hey, can you guys pick me up? I shouldn’t walk eight minutes in the dark.’ “And their having fun at my expense” hasn’t happened to me yet but as the sun sets my ears ring ‘Is it only a matter of time?’ “I was, you know, underneath one of them” as I will be underneath bundled clothes reciting old winter delusions come November, because oversized coats could somehow save me: sometimes the other party ‘forgets’ their moral coat and doesn
t
the rabbit of greenbriar grave
I intend to die underneath his greenbriar thicket, though I have not made it that far because I have stopped in a meadow of birdfoot violets and field pansies, surrounded by wood sorrels and blackgums. I left my brother somewhere to fend for himself higher up this cragged mountain, near bright laurels and wiry hawthorns, below hearty Carolina hemlocks and towering pines. I am followed by the shadow of a man who bears black gloves and a quiet voice as he inspects me who lay still in a stupor of fever and fear. He places his fingers between my long ears to bid, on behalf of his yard, a final farewell to me and to the botfly I shield from n
Ryysyinen
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r
roadkill on sundays
every mile marker is a wake of someone's fur, hair and bones: the tar of blood paves new roads. when the crow's laugh tolls, roadside daisies nod in respect as vultures overhead mark the dead. whitetail deer turn passerby eyes, nibbling on skeletons of friends and foes while coyotes lurk in loblolly shadows. the blood of an opposum bakes, his sunday smile dead under summer skies: virginia car hymns can't lift him high.
T
THE HOLLOW - Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3 Imana’s face grew flushed at the sight of her father. “What? You’re Horus?” She looked over at the startled Anpu, with his dark fur upright and his pathetic, weak cries tepidly leaving his lips— he probably just peed himself, she guessed. But piss and feces wafted from the den entrance, as such was their world, and it proved hard to discern whether Anpu was already a part of that distinctly childhood smell or if he renewed its freshness. Her nose examined him more closely, then recoiled as his smell soured the air even more. She shuffled her weight away from him, hoping he did not notice. And with his
4
11
Koa Portrait 2018
Koa Portrait 2018
2
37
t
the aftermath of a lady macbeth screening
when the professors’ white wine hits me it's raining in the cold streets of prague and i’m sliding around in flip flops waiting for miracles. my band of tipsy travelers convenes under awnings of pubs, searching for the tourist beacon of BED Lounge. in the cobblestone bowels of staré město, a miracle arrives as we reach its doors— though the mood is purple and the air is heavy, lights dance and warm bodies crowd the lounge. a narrow, coiled staircase looms nearby and its white skeleton wobbles under drunken weight. downstairs, feet line the floor with water and stain the bed with mud; i spend 225 crowns on a wh
jackdaw
11
201
i
indelible in the hippocampus is the laughter
She said, “the laugh – the uproarious laughter between the two—” and all I hear is my heart beating a question, ‘Hey, can you guys pick me up? I shouldn’t walk eight minutes in the dark.’ “And their having fun at my expense” hasn’t happened to me yet but as the sun sets my ears ring ‘Is it only a matter of time?’ “I was, you know, underneath one of them” as I will be underneath bundled clothes reciting old winter delusions come November, because oversized coats could somehow save me: sometimes the other party ‘forgets’ their moral coat and doesn
t
the rabbit of greenbriar grave
I intend to die underneath his greenbriar thicket, though I have not made it that far because I have stopped in a meadow of birdfoot violets and field pansies, surrounded by wood sorrels and blackgums. I left my brother somewhere to fend for himself higher up this cragged mountain, near bright laurels and wiry hawthorns, below hearty Carolina hemlocks and towering pines. I am followed by the shadow of a man who bears black gloves and a quiet voice as he inspects me who lay still in a stupor of fever and fear. He places his fingers between my long ears to bid, on behalf of his yard, a final farewell to me and to the botfly I shield from n
Ryysyinen
11
50
t
the lion's tooth grave of prague
The sidewalk is dyed green again with dandelion blood: white wispy limbs litter the cobblestone alongside the scars of bony stems. I am not a witness, only a passerby. I stand in awe but not in sorrow of the departed dandelions, their souls crushed under street mower hell. I pull a survivor from the grass and breathe to strip it of its flesh so that its wish is granted: to not be left alone.
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Nov 25
United States
Deviant for 9 years
https://join.me/247-644-914
Portrait commissions
I'm supposed to be writing a paper but instead I have decided to write a journal entry for commissions because I meant to do this earlier today. I'd like to do some portrait commissions, perhaps in the vein of ^ but not as detailed (yet still more detailed than my experimental ones). $20-$25-- I'm okay with doing other animals. I actually painted a pretty cool wild donkey last year so if someone could commission me a donkey I'd be thrilled. Comment or note if interested.
when you still dont have your laptop and its almost been a month 
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LadyGabes's avatar
LadyGabes|Student General Artist
You're amazing!
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Koahara's avatar
Koahara|Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you!
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nosedivve's avatar
Thanks for the faves!
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Koahara's avatar
Koahara|Hobbyist General Artist
No problem!!
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KellySeale's avatar
KellySeale|Hobbyist Writer
:love: your work.
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MorpheusDreaming's avatar
MorpheusDreaming|Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you! :)
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Koahara's avatar
Koahara|Hobbyist General Artist
No problem!
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