A Cordial Welcome
Cosmik Wolfpack is a playground and laboratory for flash-formed poetry and nanofiction written by The Debtor, a white cisgender male and citizen of the United States.
If you have something to say to the author, send it to cosmikwolfpack at gmail dot com.
8.10.2009
Perfect Stick
Watching the Program with Children
A rich broth of contradictory thoughts
When I am nude
Parents are rude,
Demand confirmation of what was taught
I am a dude
Humble and crude,
Devouring the lunch meats (which I have bought),
When I am nude
Shielding this brood
Teaching my body things others will not,
I am a dude
Eating more food,
Opened and bloodied when it has been caught,
When I am nude
Endlessly shrewd
Owning the property which I have sought
I am a dude,
When I am nude
8.09.2009
The Singer Oriented
8.07.2009
Under Blown Leaves
Sandstone and limestone.
Cumulus and cirrus.
Scissors and tweezers.
Steel and aluminum.
Lizard hips and bird hips.
If you can know these things you can grasp the difference between, between, between Muddy Waters and JL Hooker. You can wander free of memory and labor.
The mallard gives us a clean thirst.
8.05.2009
In Hair, Words
7.07.2009
It is Our Only Way to Imagine a Tongue
6.15.2009
Use the Word "Agenda" in the Title If You Ever Write a Thriller
There is usually a gas station near a business school. Sometimes public officials visit a business school. Typically, a mayor of a city is a business school graduate, which uniquely qualifies him or her for the task of cutting the ribbon at the grand opening ceremony of a new business school which signifies his or her dedication to improving the standard of living in his or her city. After the ceremony, the mayor might attend a luncheon with the business school's board members. Sometimes a local student who has received a scholarship will also be there. This is a convenient photo-op for the mayor and the student.
The student's family might frame the photo, place it in a scrapbook, or simply file it away with memorabilia of the student's other accomplishments. Doing this is of little consequence, ultimately.
This has been a general description of a common event in modern America. Specifically, there was one time when the mayor and the student engaged in a torrid affair involving sexual intercourse of a deviant nature well-suited to colorful verbal descriptions. You may assume that this situation brought a generous amount of infamy upon the lives of the principals. This actually wasn't the case; instead, the minds of the entire population of the small Midwestern town in which the affair occurred were opened to the mutually beneficial possibilities of fiercely raunchy actions between lovers of very different ages.
6.10.2009
Checkbook Frenzy
4.24.2009
Chalk Wit
4.22.2009
Allegiances, Thus
A negatively charged electron cloud provokes a teenager's raging hormones. The causal implications of carnally inspired mating behaviors. Our teenagers, horny and proud, are constantly interacting and competing in network relationships; they are the very fire in the engine of usefulness.
4.10.2009
Encyclopedic Nostalgia Vapors
This is the exchange of saliva. This is the plug and the socket, the happening of energy, the temporary existence. There under the floor is just nothing but unseen worthlessness in the darkness and a nameless voice never silent. This is the plug and the socket and the cord is hot with blood.
We are a sugary mass full of the the the the the the the the the the the particles and tiny energies in their patterns. The patterns happening one time and one time and one time destroyed and silent. The patterns swallowed and vomited and the becoming of songs. The words now are receptacles of tensions. We are a sugary mass deluded and hungry. We know hunger like anger and anger like peace.
This is ripping it apart.
4.07.2009
Fist in Mug
4.06.2009
Island Flatness and Proof of Contour
4.02.2009
Croc Window Snacks
This woman continues to break barriers with the emerging of the heart and mind of a poet. The passion this writer shares with you continues to get your blood thirsting for your pain. There is no particular box big enough to fit the soul of a writer and author and mind of a poet and other poets and writers and now simplifies the feelings and gives you insight to make a mark in society. She has successfully completed the stroke of her pen.
4.01.2009
Boots Full of Pitch
I carry my water in a fist-sized bottle, once home to a traveller's portion of shampoo. I do not travel, and I have no need of cleanliness about my scalp. The water will do well for me, and the thought of its eventual weight on my tongue and the miracle of ingested liquid brings me a sort of resolve. The absent touch of this moon in this sky with its blackness and manifold retinas and the whispers of their fires, it remains. The absent touch of this moon is something I can abide.
3.26.2009
Grandpa
2.15.2009
Brother To A Dry Tongue
2.10.2009
That Is Not Chalk
2.06.2009
Burning Pillow
I know the voices. Know the voices of the soil's darkness. The voices crammed together in the air around our ears. Voices unhearable in stone like stones in clasped hands. They tell stories of endless brutality, of the greed of jaws and the anger of bloodied feet. There is fire so sudden it does not exist. Before tenderness was a possibility, this fire was alive in our lidded eyes. I close my eyes and hear the guns screaming our names.