Adorned by
cyber
voices motley
upon the streaming air
exhaled by Ogma Sun face
plain as a brass pike staff in yer face
see the boss aint got no dainty threads on
bare arsed as a new born twerp shouting orders
to court assasins in boreal greek and latticed latin
burbling on in unknown tongues lip dancing codeine potions
compelling inebriate states to poach small town chickenshacks
Bring me moonshine
In your smile
&
gusto
In my hearth
O hearths!
~
The paraphernalia of open fires—
Scuttles, grates, tongs, clinkers,
ash shovel, hatchet
Rickety kneebends
Scrunching up the Sun
The News of the Screws
~
Picking good cinders
Hatcheting sticks
Three matches to light
Always three matches
Crackle & slow collapse
~
Juvenile flames keen to jive
The timing of the bigger sticks
Critical mass
The placement of the first coals
Put the heavy front on
~
Clunk
Shut the little door
& hope real hard
Offer up a silent
prayer to the firegods
Every little helps
Last refuge of a scoundrel
See it caught at last
Forced to flee slow accident below—
dog got worried by cuss, fuss & bother
private reasons gurt & daisy small
Time slips slow-quick-slow away—
no life permitted down there after hours
(bad traffic, gridlock, ill managed all round)
Shower first thing then…gogogo
A day away after months…
Returned bruised yet unbroken
Soiled, ill kempt, dazed & bemused
No one to blame but others’
Crass impertinence during my absence—
when cats etcetera: lice etcetera
etcetera etcetara …
Showered & ranted,
Ridicule rip reprimand
overbearing customs
such root treatment twangs
raw defenceless nerves
Made safe my escape
~
Whassup! Asylum seeking?
heard some smokes about,
grub waits in the fridge,
bread is sliced and
ready for toaster,
fresh eggs attend hens largesse
~
Yet what to do today
tugs away at me.
Slippery old customer,
hanging around the deli
without a ticket,
waiting to be asked
what he wants so she
can say, ‘What tastes nice?’
Grimbeau 