Grimbeau

Scroodles

Write Terse Block

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Stories swim amorphous, like Chagall sprites:

teasing & taunting, winding me rightup,

 

shitty harpies, chicken livers, shit lilies,

pallet knife smears, chaff and ribwort, fly blight,

 

wormcast, hot iron in the hole.

Answer: stop poetising, not everything.

 

Opaque craving: not waving, just raving.

Lunchlines. Lasagne to go; no salad leaves!

 

All are suspects. Whatdunnit? Poison milk,

Croak & Crosswell. Condensed gift:

 

dilute & quaff off this myrtle quoit.

Late, great Spooner. Leave oxtail by town drain.

 

Quit the spritz, Turd policeman.

Bottom inspectors of the world: ignite!

 

Social lurkers, shadow shams. Now you see:

Now! You donut. Dream of scrumptiousness,

 

crack of doom. Dunderhead heard: Thunderbird said:

“Five minutes & we’re almost there.”

 

Slobbo

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the easy way out dogs my every step –

I call it Slobbo.

It is a shadow,

reeks of burgers and pickles,

farts and burps at will,

drinks like a trooper,

smokes like a fish.

 

it is white at night.

it sings, shouts, and staggers then.

 

I watch it from my

silken hammock

fuming

 

 

as i rolled out…

poly

Elegiac:

it rolled out one summer’s morning,

thick roll-up in one hand

tar strong coffee in the other,

halted atop the ramp

to take dappled light

took this picture:

green wheelbarrow homes

old yellow milkcrate

left side of

giant cypress treetrunk;

three paving slabs

lean leftside

propping up three

intact mauve

plastic sacks

(compost) .

Generally the earth is parched grey, arid, and ill lit.

This is a gravelly land, conifers did well here till

the buildings cropped up to replace them.

Down the hill is a loamy valley, which floods a lot.

These were the fields where the villagers

who lived up here in the pinewoods worked.

It is called Clayhill

Twixt Lyre & Letter

homelessman

Equine sequins graze

Argideen banks fresh

lush morning meadow.

Vermin in ermine

once plundered this place.

Streamside reveals

Wild green hair

swims strokes stone,

gravel banks bulge,

hopeless infant meanders

know their destiny:

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