Quickies
Shadows juggling
in quick suns
adumbrate
potentates
and
pomegranates
we speak
lushly
amongst
dour
selves
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Magic Realism
June 24, 2014
Waters Took
Moodpainter…
Stitched up
like a kipper.
Slow train fuming.
Touch light blue paper.
Electric smoke smell.
Flicker.
Glimpse candle
spunk in shade.
Dragonfly and scallion:
Pork medallion.
Bang.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Is that you?
No.
Knobsides?
Not got any.
Stuck then.
Coalholed in one.
Albatross
humming like a hawser
In a fall squall
June 23, 2014
Feng Shui
One
after non-morning
The vestibule of frogs
Looked up,
Exchanged
Knowing glances,
And,
For the sheer hell of it,
Gawped
June 23, 2014
Lynchmob
Sun seeps in
Mandolin winks
Tingles
Whispers
Manifesto
Eschews
Lachrymose Dude:
Shrewd
June 22, 2014
Ludo
We are Minotaur
In our labyrinths
All sublime
All divine
June 22, 2014
The Zest Fest
Get this thrill
Be no martyr
No Sidhartha
Spill no beans
Midsommer
Green scene
Thunder peel
June 20, 2014
Sissyfuss
Still undrunk.
Not that I care:
Transparently.
Pushing the big
boulder again.
Tantalus tries
to pass me a glass,
drops it.
My boulder rolls off.
We laugh.
We cry.
June 20, 2014
Fitzcaraldo
Lunchtime.
Chilly when the sun goes plug
Ate bits of last night.
Took my drugs.
Green Cold Amber.
Sun in and out.
Epiphany!
Garden excursion with coffee and cheroot.
Stare at puffy blue song swan vistas.
Make an inventory!
A gossamer feather, white as the lamb;
a cutting crowded rusty burner
(By-law say no burning till seven
on dint of death by fire; A plethora of flies.
Cut my Leg? Crimson Orinoco.
The expedition returns to base.
Bloodied but unbruised.
June 20, 2014
Normal
Orestes kills
Clytemnestra
In Slumberland:
A mattress Ide.
Blue Mother’s Day feral. Woe ensues.
Laughbarrel!
Better the tranquillity of pulchritude.
Takes your mind of things.
Truth beauty. Beauty truth. That kinda thing.
Turn of the heel. Waft of sublime stardust.
Whiff it. Insuckle. Yellow ether self.
Full as life. Teeming. Oceanically.
June 19, 2014
Spencer Tracy
Now,
A medicine ball props me up.
I find myself on a purple furlough
from San Drunken to Alchotraz:
fatter, stupider, floundering
wondering
Why –
which is always a stupid question,
as I well know
(should know better
but don’t).
Regrets?
I’ve hand a few…
Grimbeau 