Alan Britt
PTERODACTYL FUTURE Pterodactyl claw of pollen hinges my eyelash, sends a quiver to my mammalian brain that rain or some other meteorological phenomenon is a matter of faith & not my model for the future. Cotton fibers separate the fingertips of my thoughts—I wonder who freezes because of shifting breezes stirred by the thundering herd? Fairy from an Irish tale lingers, wings dissolving like colors on a bubble lurking behind whole grain sans gluten conversations rustling a distant room with a conch shell ambiance fit for prince or princess in a foreign brain or brine surging oblongata lava. Pterodactyl claw of pollen hinges my eyelash, sends a quiver to my mammalian brain that rain or some other meteorological phenomenon remains a matter of faith & not my model for the future.
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