Entropy
Two And One Post Meridian: Postilion Shuts Theban Bins
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Magic Realism
November 10, 2014
November 9, 2014
Shane Finn
Elfden
Chumpden
Chookslayer
writhes about
In fresh turdies,
guffawing tiglets,
splurging glurb,
drooging knucklers,
whenxe
a seizure to indulgest
a zit of DIY Greco-Roman
unter den perchway
to sepulchritude.
‘Is this the way
to get a mush kiss,
standing here still
pulling my penis?’ He snoods
toothe fladgey gorlslush
whooob gawbs a goober, hollowring:
‘Ingorge anti-intoxicants for it
forthwith & pulverise the amoeba-3
out of the armadillo, Pillow!’
October 27, 2014
Sunburst Blemish
Half-Eight wait
Coffee pot sunk,
Clunk, glug drunk,
Sunblaze
amber green
blue morning,
slosh galoshed
plum blinkered,
spooning gate
…
wretched short
phase too
brief fleet
on two
hour glass.
Tangerine days,
tamarind leaves,
verdigris craze,
sunflower lumber
…
Sing off tune songs,
whistle dry
Humdrum:
Sunflower
Oils marzipan,
line Rumour
Road milk
road with
cornflakes.
October 25, 2014
Pipedreamer
Plumber’s Sky:
dour Teutonic one,
sad sardonic one,
improving on perfection for the hell of it,
making your own bed, lying in it,
finding your head in clear,
Sea air.
Mummer’s Sky:
sour, demonic one,
crazed hispanic one,
enjoying your rejection for the shell of it,
having you own cake and eating it,
resting your bones over there,
Blue chair
Number’s Sky:
not a chronic one,
a down the drainpipe one,
tolling your bell for the tell of it,
being yourself and loving it,
holding a winning hand,
Deuces
October 21, 2014
Gonzalo’s Tale
Another bitty night, the wind’s to blame,
the Ham, the game, the Cheese, they all took part,
but did not do what you did, Maria…
You sly one, you twisted, silent, deadly sister
Due to your emission, I will suffer
endless tumult and derision and you will
live to lie in pastures new as if butter did not melt
Guts are a bit choppy, the wind’s to blame
I explain to the assembled throng who
Conclude it was me, not you who caused the pong
Now, simpled, feeling a complicit tool
You play it Cool, queen the art of cool,
woman’s grudge is women’s definition,
Powder your nose, pass the ammunition.
October 17, 2014
fishbind
Red
River night
Night falls red
Night falls
Red
River night
Mist
Splosh!
A
Barbel
Tryst
Hooked
On
Red
River
Night
October 14, 2014
The School of Varied Knocks
Soft knocks
To shut or open the Zen on the Art of Bridge,
Faust, Kafka – easy listening!
Getting my bearings, settling in, making a mess, feeling awkward.
The Bridge. I know this place well, too well. The scene of the crime, witness to disaster, base misdemeanours, sullied by cleansing agents, violated by animals, jumbled up, dumped on, dumped in.
The Bridge. Here dreams are born, and mares lived out. Stories of horses; hateful verses, grudging verses diluted. These are bad vibes. This time will be different, this is not a retreat. It’s a crucible, a temenos.
The Bridge. A place to prepare yourself in order to be yourself.
to shut or open the door at whim.
Knocks are needed to gain entry.
Hard knocks.
October 13, 2014
has the bird flown
Precocious as a pre-fab sprout,
Faron Young plus thirty-three.
The hour: the one before the darkest,
Clock the dour, prudent, tourist jurist
loping slowmo from zero to one,
distilling memento mori ad hoc.
Just like a Rigoletto really,
or a cigarillo nearly, huffing,
Puffing, somewhere in the night.
Grimbeau 