I’ve posted this one for today in Lewis Oakwood’s blog as a reply, so reposting it here.
“Here’s one for today. This one is a bit more worked than yesterday, simply because the orphan lines came from a poetry generator and it was somewhat faulty in its understanding of what may or may not be a noun. I wanted to start with a poem that did have some cohesion, although I didn’t move too far away from oddness. The second part had then gone a bit haywire and conversational, so I pulled it back a little, made it less proselike, in certain ways.”
Quillfyre 
Grizzly Shark Yak Avalanche
I.
The arguing pair like yaks,
the situation fell to motives.
A shot shark leaves,
eating jackal snacks,
the lurking mass blocks the sun.
In a drear lake, a golden grizzly
bright sand of beach emerges.
To grow old, bitter, sweet
and lost to time.
II.
Sounds arguing yaks make, cow chorus,
goat guffaw, bray-like burro song
Yakity Yak (Photo credit: ucumari)
argue over spoilt milk, curdles of white spilt
seep into soil, lost soothe of warm suckle
they huddle under trees, backs turned to pelt
of driving rain, hides impervious to snow so
there they go full of fight ‘n’ holler sounds,
yak, yak, yak.
Shot. Shot? buck shot rifle shot pistol shot
shot silk missile shot sling shot gut shot earshot.
Not. Not out of earshot, yakking, strident
tones over shot sounds.
Shark has to go, be long gone, fish out of water
gill-gasp. Yaks, vegetarians all.
Yaks stampede jackals straight to gape-jaw sharks,
mass-lurked jackals out before sunset block the yak sun.
(What nightmare did the grizzly crawl from,
golden or not, and aging?)
A fresh fish lunch shark on his mind
and sharp on his tongue.
Impermanence and change, even the rock faces
groove slowly with the etch of character lines.
Listen for their hollow laughter.
CAS. May 8, 2014