Rue Morgue Avenue
Bullets rain,
winds prance,
Cold suns rise,
firebirds dance.
Sirens wail,
beggars chant:
Honi soi qui mal y pense.
Bullets rain,
winds prance,
Cold suns rise,
firebirds dance.
Sirens wail,
beggars chant:
Honi soi qui mal y pense.
Glisten
Sheer sparkling wit,
wild infant crazy hopes,
whose voices, too true, call to us all
like spooks
No malice no cry
Removed annoying tiffin dag
Dried up fruit cake crumb
Hard to break down cranberry
Undigested lamb cutlet
Or something more sinister
Don’t look now says Henry James
pulling on worn cardie
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
Look Ma, No land!
Outward bounding sounding.
Leap in the dark chart.
Trust me. Trust the boat.
Shiver me timbres, if you must.
Anchor me and I stop.
Mistreat me and you will suffer at your own hands.
Freedom is yours.
Sez whose army?
Smell cloved rind, take deep draughts of zestful Pomander.
Ambergris, musk, or civet – know not which
smell hangs round my neck.
To conceal?
Contenders include:
Old stale boxers, empty horses, prize-fighters,
ring rusted, knocked out, punch trunks.
No. Clean out last night.
Socks and slippers, forget me not when I forget thee.
Drongo alert.
Tweet, tweet, dive
Survived the ambush, another sell buy shooting:
left gazpacho kippers out flat, plumb tuckered,
gobbled up with occidental relish.
Post war: Daphnia, Delia, and Celia skip
a light fandango with Mandingo, leave him manacled,
popsickled, humbled: prone to pillage.
Pesky parishioners, villainous villagers, codpiece Carmellites,
how they muddled meddle,
wild hunters pass by like trappist hoodlums.
Silent but deadly
Past Full moon, Rowan hides it,
cloud gusts fade to wispers.
Hunters swoon with exertion,
rest in peace
on mauve nasturtiums.