Nausicaä & Your Chance to Pitch
Nausicaä
Rambling over the sand, the data sparse,
all lines point to guilt from an imperial death cult
Reviewing the sturgeons on the shore,
the skyline is violet, bringing bird chants to my ears
Eyes pop, mouths spit out salt water,
the fins flutter in an illusion, their poisoning is real
Whatever I glean, is not currency,
insights mount out of trade, no other mind desires it
Scale and bone separating in the surf,
the greasy bodies roll, the power of the sea goes on
Your Chance to Pitch
Diablo’s world
canyon of dreams collapsing
but the stars are high
above the mountains
dust hides in a sparkle
diamonds instead of dirt
air stings until sharp
crushed ginger in the mouth
a sliced moon sweeps
pale shadow over dry prairie
animals howl
loudly at the wound
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, The Northampton Review, Local Train Magazine, The Minetta Review and Yes Poetry. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is trying to publish his novels.