Creepy scaly arms
are reaching out
across the stones as
snow is falling and
coating his head
still those arms
keep reaching and
keep on pulling that
bright blue bulbous
body across the
slickering ice
inch after inch and
pebble to cobblestone
but now the bright blue
of oceans is turning
into gloss blue of
ice chunks with the
moonlight casting gold
down on top of his head
still pulling and
still slinking
still suckering over
pebbles and cobblestones
and sheets of ice
no clue where
he’s going and I
don’t rightly care
its’s still more than a marvel
to see this
octopus blizzard with
tentacles and fingers
suckers and beak
the water-greased ice
but still he gains traction
while the ice grows thicker on
pebbles and cobblestones
under yellow moonlight
casting long shadows
on down the street
all of the village caught sleeping
twisting and spiraling
coiling and gripping
with a slicking
slurping suction
popping off of the ice
snow cover thickening
salt air grows stronger
but there is no sea to be seen
twisting and spiraling
coiling and reaching
over every
pebble and cobblestone
coated in ice slicks and
powdered with fresh snow
under the pale yellow moonlight
casting his long shadows his long shadows
on down the street and
throughout all of the village and
all are caught sleeping
in this ocean’s frigid gift
of the Octopus Blizzard in June.
Frank Weber
Frank Weber is a freelance writer from Erie, Pennsylvania. He is a published author, featured in several magazines, anthologies, books and advertising campaigns as both writer and model and is currently a Staff Writer for Bare Back Magazine. Frank draws inspiration from the Kerouac-Bukowski-Thompson vein, and his work encompasses a firm conviction, simple honesty in written word and enough of a raw edge to make people feel what they read.
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