Original article posted by Minty:

I want to explain this first poem a little bit. It was composed my Junoi year of high school during an Algebra 2 class. Now I was having trouble staying awake and this was the last class I wanted to doze off in. The insructor fancied himself the math Fhur and delighted in startling students who dozed off with his large plastic doomy bat.
So I started this little scene in my head about a french familiy visiting the alps for some reason. This is would be the result the imaginary people,doing predictable things in my head.

“Where is ma petite?”

Looking out,that is all she can do. The ice branch of maples.
Solemn skin,pickled hair.
“The snow is deceptive,you’re feet unsure.”
Many hopeful warning words,now scattered in the wind…
Cling to gray matter,poured like candy,
on an ice cream cone.
One human sundae…
Blood,bile and bone.

On Tip

Ice is prettier than glass,
goes to show,that loveliness
most intense is transitory

Id hate to be an ice cube
To know
how pretty
how fast
I’d rather be a rock,
ugly and permanent.

Red Rock

Desert mountains lurk
Rain eaten, wind parched
-On those rare cloud eclipses
The mountains pure, pout.
A crouching sour wet kitten