Patrick Culliton



My boot blabs at

the ground and I get nearer
that cloud stretching
its quadriceps beyond
the shiny oil well
that looks like an amusement
park ride as it fucks the ground.
We are pearls curled fetal in the wash.
I once shampooed a pelican with dawn
is a sentence more than one of us

utters around a fire
before a gulf blubbers up
her throat. How unlike ocean
a finger looks to the nape.



Patrick Culliton is. Just kidding.

Photo: Jeff Griffin