"Three Chambers of the Hippo," "Into Further Temptation," and "A Patient Path by Subtle Degree"
Three Chambers of the Hippo
A song, of a sudden,
rang out from the belfry
on a Saturday morning
in Frederick
A chaotic design
that sounded as if
it had been spliced together
by an eagerly ambitious
yet still overly
impressionable generation
of AI
& who else hears
this mad sound
of clanging/conspiring
mechanical dissonance?
The park is popping
with life
on an otherwise calm &
cloudy scene
but I bet
(my last wishing penny)
the first sign of the sun
will awaken
& welcome
twelve prodigal gods
back to the table
to bargain
for antique discounts
The greatest show/simulation/con
on earth
fit to form
with bread,
butter, & wine
all the seductive
accoutrements & appetizers
blueprinted in the code
to fatten your flesh
for the feast of the beast
& soften your mind
the same as marrow
dissolving
in a
stew
Into Further Temptation
demon &/or
daemon
&/or
just another voice
in Plato’s head
screaming from the rafters
while the rest
of the mad choir
screws around in the cheap seats
gather about
& behold
the great undoing/becoming
that’s the way
the cookie
always cracks up
leaving (leavened) breadcrumbs
strewn along the path
A Patient Path by Subtle Degree
Four white swans
melancholic in the shallows
little unicorn souls
neon snowflake tincture
for the sum
of five lost ages
in the sun
six spent sirens
and seven spirals careening empty
The assimilation
of life’s seemingly
discordant aspects
into a cohesive whole
is like unto
brewing a medicinal spell
to release on the new moon
and when the cards are turned
to reveal a peaceful moment
hark!
spark your spirit
to the rhythm
of an orderly vibration
humming electric
from magnetic spheres
dancing geometric patterns
swirling in shapes, manifesting form
All the mushrooms and flowers
and herbs and trees that I
have no names for
hold my imagination
in the life grip of hope
but if chaos remains
your favorite tonic
then carry your piece to the stars
and howl by night in lamentation
I listen instead
to the song of the whales
ringing sacred
at the yawning abyss
music’s inside aquatic source
mouth stuffed with salted pearls
pink fish and red eyes
Wim Hof secures deep breaths in place
my silver thread untethered
lucid along the path of turtles
![Scott Thomas Outlar Scott Thomas Outlar](https://unlikelystories.org/sites/default/files/scott_thomas_outlar_2.jpg)
Scott Thomas Outlar originally hails from Atlanta, Georgia. He now resides and writes in Frederick, Maryland. His work has been nominated multiple times for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He guest-edited the Hope Anthology of Poetry from CultureCult Press as well as the 2019-2023 Western Voices editions of Setu Mag. Selections of his poetry have been translated and published in 15 languages. He has been a weekly contributor at Dissident Voice for the past ten years. More about Outlar's work can be found at 17Numa.com.