Kitchen joy beheld
Chocolate almond croissant
Warmed up under grill
Rinsed a greasy baking tray
Rescued a sausage courgette
Flavius Importunas
and witchcraft sandwich
Boethius Consolation
of Philosophy fairly
lit up the Dark Ages
the Harry Potter
of those Gothic Days
Phew!
So much to do
and
no point in any of it;
just plain old survival;
avoidance of mishaps,
relief from pain relief.
No simple sample pleasure.
*
Eleven it says:
Morning constitutional
To the shed and back
Phantom bouquet
bonfire smoke whispering
Secret trysts at noon
Thrilled to bits I don
A cloak & gagger…
*
Phone calls to invite me to luncheon;
of course,
I accept with puerile alacrity.
What ensues is vintage time warp!
Clear the decks for a couple of hours;
put pressing needs on hold;
suspend more disbelief.
*
Hot colouring book trend offer:
one legged dormouse to play Plato;
Dizzy the Womble pours scorn…
Exasperated! Go touch your heels
Take odd drugs on a building site
Discover unknown places
Canoes & kayaks hurry past
buffeted by cataracts
in search of sweet asylum
way beyond a joke
a trope
a paradigm
nature’s cracking up
so it would appear
is everything else
Pallid wan shrouded
Lucid nacreous calico
Cauled mirrored fetch
Spectral living ghosts emerge
Perusing your back pages
I smoked some grave ass
Damaged the thick glass
Of my cartoon eye lash
So did Gunter Grass
He was good, dontya thinks?
knifing slivery eelsguts
in a Kitchen Sink
Private versus public grief.
Rolling home
in the dark alone
slagging of my footwear
‘He showered
he shaved,
he came back from the grave.
Lazarus…
Lazarus…’
~
The daily drudge is on.
Walk away, walk away.
Up and down the garden path
fetch your underwear.
Walk away, walk away
One step, two step…
collapse on the prickly pear.
Walkaway, walkaway
~
‘Sea above us,
sky below,
we’re upside down,
head to toe!’
Ate cake before bed,
coffee found congealed
intact, redeemable: stirred,
revived, microwaved.
Stay of execution granted
Just three hours before deadline –
brutal brinkmanship
orders from the DA
reprieved to death row
there’s no place like home
green, green grass
to touch, taste, smell
Each dawn I live.
*
Grimbeau 