Daulis Defile
Near One
Undone
You won
Old Son
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Journal
September 9, 2013
Soft
Inside night rain,
walking titanium lino,
I wahwah wahwah wander,
smoking and sipping,
sloping and drooping.
Outside sodden fuchsias
Burst, brambles stalk
crazed hedgerows,
licked rosebushes wince,
nettles nestle
snuggling dockleaves.
Now Rain wanes,
a crooked hand appears
between salmon drapes,
eases the latch,
sending swoon done air
to soft green
dark dawn.
September 8, 2013
Slippers
For thrift’s sake
we wear just one slipper at a time,
in continental shifts, diligently
observant of time zones,
ever-changing weather patterns, the jet stream,
solar winds, and the roaming holes in the
ozone and sole.
September 8, 2013
Aerobics
See the merman on the pushchair
huffing and grunting
like Puffing Billy, steam coming
from his nostrils
negotiating a three-point turn,
searching for the short term memory loss
that is a morning milk bottle. Splash!
It slips and spills some globs
on the floor and leg rash.
Not dropped though
so no need to cry.
Just grin and bear it:
get used to rancidness.
No rashers till you shower
when the care comes.
September 8, 2013
Candid Chimera
Last Night of…
extreme dreams,
stark monochrome fluid,
freeway floral wallpaper,
rotting damasks, shillelagh,
almonds and formaldehyde.
White light, white sheet.
Jammin’ Jerusalem
Jute wailing bunnies.
Then,
exhausted from the lie-in:
cobalt clear still sky
flossed with high flying drifts,
orchestras of demi-gods trail
home spent.
We scavenge the tepee for beans,
celebrate love apples with libations of strong coffee,
and weep and fear for the band snakes,
Asian gators, and tigers on the fridge, hiding behind
the fabric conditioner, still ready to pounce on sleepy
Moorhen’s eggs.
Your runnin’ and
your runnin’ and
your runnin’ away
from yourself.
September 7, 2013
Struth
…the sun also rises
Tennish
Nice day!
Ripper
Sloth sleeps
Pollop sucks
The dead floor.
Meantime,
above,
I lodge a suppository
of all knowledge
in my sphincter.
September 7, 2013
Pedal Extremes
Go barefoot,
unstockinged or socked,
as often as you can!
Even if
like me
you have
grotesquely twisted gnarled toes,
suppurating scabby nightmares,
wear your feet with pride.
Feet are wonderful,
if you have some
Flaunt them
September 7, 2013
Lassitude, Come Home!
When tempted to run for pinball
do yoga breathing, stand on your head,
and whistle down the wind,
play games
with lazyitis, and why not!
The grizzly nonsense of dossy
dissipation, the thin dry horse
tethered to the crossbar outside
The Molten Slipper Saloon
disaster’s old recipe
Table on the meal when you get
Back home if you have
got a home at all.
September 4, 2013
Chisholm Trail Dawn
Join me as I slink to twig the silver
dust away from the campfire’s embers.
See the fire glow: teaspoon it to flame,
Carefully perch the tall, crimson pot atop,
askew atop that is, and dig the day’s
latrine with that small yellow plastic spade.
We are on the outskirts of the craic of dawn.
Scantily clad tidings of cheap skates and
Square war-jaws, cousins to sleep’s hazel
snacks and myxamatosis of your mind’s eye.
September 4, 2013
Calendula
Now,
confound
dermic night flakes,
and,
through air
smoke blizzard,
blink molten dawn
short
to be
Indian summer,
and stroll
pondering
bullfrog Michaelmas
Grimbeau 