Left No tern unstoned they read

by grimbeau

Letters in a Sea Shell,
perhaps — cockle, hermit, conch,
periwinkle…lists of ships on ebbtides
Whose that overacting over there on the bluff?
Iffy lightbulb on the wane dammit
Mistook Ajax for Johnson’s Baby Pulver
No fizzing wonder
Are we not merely the Star’s Tennis Ballerinas?
No we are the playthings of the Gods old thing
Same thing in the end
Yes, suppose it is
How we timid tittered!

Cake eaters rattled bumble crumble
Hunched up over various precarious lattes
down inside voodoo child stuff grumbles
—austerity charity caught fondling figures
violent phones rest in peace on unstable cradles
beckoning a reckoning on—
faith & hope look almost gone
kicked deep into the long grass

under came trouble
mumbling vexed profanities
proud possessor oven elephantine hump
straightened crinkled salty vanity
missing out in summer sanity
all the flowers well kaputt
trampled blindly thunder foot
buried under winter warmers
will this mad wind dissipate
make up its fickle changeling mind?