Trilobite is an arthropodologist's delight:
many bizarre creatures; no two alike.

“Slipping the Human On”

Carleen Tibbetts

after James Pate

that fleeting nostalgia

of a glittering summer day

stitched into the horizon

hours ablaze with the

warm hum of nightviolence

the gloss of days

the satin curvature of

a chemical language on

corroded tongues

infected with myth

animal noises from a

far-off party

the moondead

flowering dissonance

the fleshy sprawl

of corpselight

the violent silkening of

the neatly-scarred

flesh economy

the musty velvet of

mouthnumbed luxuriant bodies

bare feet on petals

the carrion gnashing of

wordless teeth

pulsing pink murmurations of

nightfrolicking manic slippage

the endless tease of

a balmy future

taking shape in front of you