Drift, Drip, And The Return Of Dryphidius Poem by Zachary Zuccaro

Drift

A piece of driftwood,
covered with barnacles,
washes onto the beach.
Jaded memory
of a Spanish ship
sunken by pirates.

A little boy
dressed in a sailor's uniform
drags the log back home.

The King Ferdinand's ship
lies in a peasant's yard.
Oyster mushrooms
consume the wood.




Drip


Paint drips
down the wall
into a puddle
of tar
on my head.





Dryphidius

Lord Dryphidius
folds his silken wings
as he stands upon his pedestal
and utters his proclamation
of absolute dominion
over the transcendental beings
inhabiting his dimension.