The Smart of My Example Target Heartrate
I write a thing. I write a thing again. I repeat a thing. I repeat a thing. I open with:
Reap, reap *flicks holy water on you*
I’m not listening for the sound so much when I shake a thing I mean for it to break.
What’s a one-bell tower I’ve figured out how to configure—it dangs-dangs in the conservatory. It was maybe used to kill a body.
It’ll not work. It’ll not ever get blown right off. Maybe a wholesale Jonny has games, spanks a portmanteau with the great glean of a halligan bachmantra.
Bag. Swang. A body does a thing.
Is your icon a teeny winky?
Mine’s a penitent. I’m a penitent. I take cholesterol home tests and film them.
At Saint Andrew’s Episcopal High there’s a hack machine under heat performing on easy-print dollies. I can lift the cheval’s behanged heft. I can fix a blown part.
I’ll just be needing now an 8mm video adapter to show you that wrecked hawking in which all unicellular organisms involved begin to drift spirographically: thus the generation of a new coat of arms, thus half the world’s oxygen is an awkward stranger standing over what’s left of my left shoulder.
Jessica Comola is the author of the chapbook What Kind of Howly Divine (Horseless Press 2014). Her previous work has appeared in Jubilat, Anti-, Everyday Genius, Painted Bride Quarterly, EOAGH, and Smoking Glue Gun. She currently lives and teaches in Oxford, MS where she co-hosts the Trobar Ric reading series.