Grimbeau

Scroodles

Below decks I ate wild mushrooms in scrambled eggs,

warm Parma ham,and a choice, prime cut, brown bap,

Oodled in buttery herbs, then, replete,

ascended , fortified to sullen work

after a digestive puff

A glimpse of sun is better than none,

must learn to be more grateful for these, my gifts,

the vessel drifts, time floats, ice too.

Less temperate climes, incursive east wind,

will blast and burn, singeing our lashes

saying only we have committed sin

a mortal sin, the sin of not being them.

Leeward, a cacophony and splashes

Dolphins, a school, weirdly mocking, unabashed.

Up at the crack of doom and so it pours,

acrid quicklime, gregarious sash window,

drone buzz, sable confetti, nasal toot,

sootfall, gasp, volume, mass. What folly, what

pulchritude, what bafflement. Life was a

giant veiny nose, a red herring, a

wanton flop. So be it. Que Sera, Sera.

Horace Day, Matt Busby, James `The Fact` Durante…

pock dugout, dabbed down and dusted copious

cloud of potassium permanganate,

spotlighted by Lazarus, light reveals

white head and lost tribe of Erin: Quilty’s Pals.