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The Pink Snail invites original and previously unpublished poetry to its pages.
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Two Poems by Paul David Adkins
The Witnesses to Bigfoot It has been said that only the depressed, the anxious, the disassociates, are allowed to see the Bigfoot. Only those we cannot trust to discern the truth can spy its eight-foot frame lumber amid the timber. The skeletons we found, the experts term deer. The bipeds, bears foraging for berries. What cries we hear are cries, we're told, the woods ceaselessly surrender. Until who can we believe? Those who wandered from us, humming within the wood line, or rocking at midnight in the palmettos, stroking armadillos, each one to a shine. Native Names for a Simian Cryptid For "Bigfoot," the Natives had 1,000 names but only one opinion: leave it alone. Leave its mystery in fog. Leave the infrequent couplings unspied, and call the howling bobcats. Let the birthing spillage crust in meadow grass, nourish flies for miles. Let the stillborn burst its maggot stitching unwatched. Let no one see the bones dissolve to loam, the skull, thin as an egg. Its ...
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