A Conrad Dimple Poem IIIbyWickedEve©
A Conrad Dimple Poem III
from the channeled spirit of Conrad Dimple
"Blitzlightpuver, Boy!" bellows Heinz,
our light, line and shadow hunter.
"I must capture Mister Tweedy!"
we call Boy — N!xau in click tongue —
hauls flash powder tins on his back.
The campsite is crackle
Black dust settles on scales
and calves, ankles,
and bare feet still kicking,
like fresh baby in the field.
Dear Mistress Tweedy,
Three nights it coiled in Mister Tweedy's
sleep sack, slumbering not,
If only we had made it
copyright d. dixon