Circus

In my new myth of the whole world
& how it all works or doesn't,
the delicate yellow fish girl loves
blue water boy & would further love
to plant many a fishy kiss upon his sea foamy cheek.

All of this on a turtle's back.

A rain crashing down all night
that turned out to be tears.

Then, the giant green bubble that bounces
around the sky & sounds like all voices together,

like the tv & traffic & noise & noise,

distracts both of them & leaves them together
separate, staring, & then a flash
of green light & the giant green bubble expels
the pale gray man who looks lost & homeless
&, yes, helpless. For about fifteen days.

The yellow fish girl feels compassion
& the blue water boy feels drenched
to his blue-water soul with fellow-feeling.

The pale gray man, expelled from the giant green bubble,
decides he can't live like this & wants
to get back into the giant green bubble
& so makes a song about it
that he'll sing whenever he is most lonely.

All this happening while our friends are perched
on the tip of a wolf's tongue. Waiting.












Happy Day

This morning as I stepped outside, right
as my tender toe touched the tender ground,

my whimsical but determined theme song kicked up
& since then everything has gone decidedly my way--

no pianos dropped from second floor windows
to knock me flat & give me cartoon-style ivory teeth,

no potted plants dropped one-two-three, bright
white lily then sunny sunflower & finally

the pinkly clustered chrysanthemum, to fall & shatter
upon mine big soft head, birds & stars sprouting from the soil

like ideas scattered & thought better of, no threats,
no menacings, no inconveniences major or minor

dost befall on me & so surely this must be the best
of all possible worlds. Honestly, I woke up stupid & sore

afraid thinking of my nil prospects for the future as I stared blank
into the grayscale sun. This is the unhappy world I've made,

I thought: no pictures on the wall, nothing but leftovers
in the fridge. I had to think of all the me's

I've shaken hands with & bid farewell to over the years
& I had to wonder what they're waking up to,

what's on their living room walls. But
since then, everything has been perfectly fine!

Life is grand! Nothing is going
horribly, disastrously, irreparably wrong.








Nate Pritts' new work can be/will be seen in print from The Southern Review, POOL, Pacific Review, Cimarron Review, & Forklift, Ohio & online at DIAGRAM, storySouth, Coconut, Unpleasant Event Schedule & 42opus. His chapbook, THE HAPPY SEASONS, is online from Swannigan & Wright; a new chapbook, WINTER CONSTELLATIONS, is forthcoming from horse less press. The editor & sole shareholder of H_NGM_N, an online journal of poetry, poetics, &c., Nate lives in Natchitoches, LA. His wife is Rhonda; his kids are Kate, Dylan & Laney. His dog is Oscar.






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