Anchovy Sundown
Ponder Lost
orange months,
Gone like
quicksilver fish,
Their trails,
now fading,
once were fragrant,
salt
& purple
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: writing
September 29, 2014
Cuss Nightmare
Tory Story:
Press on
To Iniquity
and
Beyond…
Heads buried
in sand
Bland on Bland
Hand in hand
Ingerland
September 28, 2014
Spudcropper
four
back door:
elsinore
mellow
madonna
mobile
like
thistle
down
jet
plane
cries
till
next
time
September 28, 2014
Florin
What’s the time on Dandelion?
Burning, yearning gravy waftings.
Wild Cries of joyful carwashers.
Five dimensioned rosehip cushes.
Who painted the lawn day-glow emerald?
A sporran in the night, a ptarmigan at dawn.
A creative with a sloppy bucket.
A mandarin blood orange.
September 28, 2014
Roomination
Boiled egg struggles,
succumbs to
wrecking spoon.
Starlings rush
from yolk.
World without bend.
Amen
September 26, 2014
Few Steps
1
Four:
Real good sun out there.
No showers yet: no wind.
Loud Friday school’s out.
Will I? Won’t I
Have a cheroot: think about it.
Yeah, cheroot’s a good idea.
First, get out of this walnut trick.
A hard nut to crack from within
Let alone without.
2
Out
3
Back in
4
That was nice.
September 26, 2014
Sage Minstrel says:
Epithalamiums
Always
Fall on
Deaf-eared
Bonkers.
September 26, 2014
Ellis Island
His wife,
his daughter
On the game.
Flooded delta:
Monsoon rain.
Eye catches Ad:
‘Give us your whores,
Your puddled masses’
Should have gone to
Evening classes.
September 26, 2014
Pull no river, push no punch…
So, nine to fervour underway
Make a list in mind,
A must not
To do list,
So, no list
Empty list.
Instead,
Go flowing with Brenda,
tickle salmon,
provoke Diogenes
&
smile at Joni Mitchell
floating down moon rivers
on a carousel of time
September 24, 2014
Sea Gherkin Fugue
…floorsucker churns, provokes
gaspings and breathings
safe depthiness is spored
making me splutter
like a pudgy, tetchy baby.
This grief hugs me hollow.
fig lungs implode:
Lites
Bladderwrack
& oyster beards
strangle raddled eyes
Blasted by terror
we stare in mirrors
for escape not reflection.
Look there only when
lamp posts resemble fate.
Grimbeau 