Pendergast

The Library of Communications

I shall pay attention to no because it is a pelican scramble.
No, left-joined. No, added to a table and then subtracted
from that table. No pad and no ruled. No rapiers and wal-
labies doing a walk-thru of the revolution and no liking
what they see.
Too forlorn, one mumbles.
Too two-ie…
I bring to the jury’s attention this little grasshopper. A tree
of boo.

crocodile clobber

It’s all an opening—like it is posted and you reply, conveyed along the walkway while someone says “…moving forward” as elastic and gummy and lumbering as one of your crocodiles. These are the precursory laws of the land and they shake your hands firmly, son. Your tattoo was/is/will be a crocodile, a clump in the water you are subjected to, “in” relation, ten clicks away, a fold of bones on the shoreline jiggling up/down regardless and regardless. The blue world is firmly blue, is dark, pushed in, the mouth of morning agleam with silver elevators. It stands for degrees. It’s all “up” from here on out. A mauled boar, headless and floating—his legs are up.

Mr. Cow

this time mr. cow will not suffer the foul smell of
march. he will rise like a cow and knock his metally
legs together. he will do the justice that needs to be
done. he will make his approach wonton and wooly
and touch that little part of the field in the middle.
and days and days of rain. the Tundra will glisten. the
smell, so distinct. you’d swear the cormorants already
hatched.

&

Dawn Pendergast lives in Houston, Texas.  She has written four chapbooks: Sea Quills (Beard of Bees, forthcoming), leaves fall leaves (Dusie Kollectiv 2011), Off Flaw (Dusie Kollectiv 2010) and Mexico City (Macaw Macaw Press 2010).  She is currently an editor for Little Red Leaves and produces handmade chapbooks for the textile series www.textileseries.com. More of her writing can be found on her website.