Nudibranch

Sales are brisk
at that infamous beach
where the nudibranchs
waste sand dollars
on colorful accessories;
the season’s
spiciest nematocysts
have just arrived!

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A version of this poem first appeared on Bluesky. Whispered into the acoustic sensors of the sleeping dreaming android, it prompted the electric sheep to generate one more tomorrow…

© 2025 Greg R. Fishbone, generated by MidJourney as a derivative work of the poem, "Nudibranch" by Greg R. Fishbone