collaborative storytelling that is equal parts critical and creative

Society of Famous, Non-existent Friends

Tim Harlow

​

She slides through her pelagic parlor

on smooth, glistening fins

her nest assembled from a million 

newspaper clippings, shitty photographs,

And website printings

 

Chupra and the giant ape dance in the next cave over

and sing drunkenly, angry curses 

in a thousand languages

they tear each other's flesh and cry together

as only old friends can

Pusheen cat purrs nervously in the corner

 

The three-headed hound barks in greek

but mostly just guards

the entrance to a sunken basement 

dark filled with the decaying bodies

of jungle walruses and megacondas

of beasts whose fame escaped them

 

She remembers gliding through

the Cretaceous sea

battling leviathans in abyssal depths

or sometimes

just resting with her mother

on sand beneath cerulean skies

 

Now she stares into her reflection in the water

assembles her features 

lays La Brea tar eyeliner on thick

whispering through giant plesiosaur tears

"Can I see my fans, just this one time?"

and a jealous bark rings through the cave

"αδύνατος"