What do violets do, chrysanthemum & roses when you’re gone, dreaming long light shadows on the grass, the dog star high & lonely? I found love from the prison of my days her cold arms. We Catholics have Aquinas, are rational. The protestant founders on empirical grounds. The eyes close, whiteness holds the…
Month: January 2020
the sea be rosewater
the sea be rosewater in memoriam of Manos, patron of the arts, you shared your laughter, sail in peace beijing july 2009 Manos Pazianos, owner of the Aegean Arthouse Cafe in Beijing died suddenly two weeks ago; his dream of a white mediterranean square in this dusty circle is gone. These words are my tribute…
Earthquake
The sun is finally here and it seems summer is done. The birds ate all my tomatoes and most of my plums. Cherries long gone. School’s back next week. Summer is done. School’s back with stationery and notices for sports and the bus. Fundraising baking. No more Lucky Book Club. It feels like earthquake weather….
Stitched Up
Who am I? Knocking on the … Devil’s door? Angel with – Damaged wings – Piggy in the middle – Wearing my grandmother’s slippers – Playing –Tit for Tat – Or am I merely… the prisoner – Gagged and bound – Pinned up against the wall? Screaming out – for Salvation – Who am I?…
Out of Order
We sit on balconies – Watch life flash by – Wind flickers – Red curtain waves – Red fire alarm sits beside door – Break glass – Operate switch – Create disaster… I wear a sign around my neck – “Out of Order” I promise myself that I will always swim – Never drown –…
liberate us from the tyranny of the useful
the dishwasher sings bliss oh doors swing polished floors violin bar chords mostly the xylophone incidentally on a soundtrack some rudimentary cartoon; wilfully simple. don’t do what i have done shot pool w drunks in the House, pissed on the velvet green to mark my territory, draw the curtain of sleep o horror &…
at the Victoria flower garden
the tulips gay serenade the highway, slip contiguous w hiss, my pathways. it’s an idea – fixe: it fits my circumstance- s, the mood i’m in – days roll the sky & this is what eternity is what it feels when hands come together. shoot my mouth off but i’m not…
PreReversion
I’d been using tasteless opioid downers for painting abstracts and when they ran out I extracted the poppy from the pain -killer, the power from the -cetamol and the spoon almost stands in the coffee. So when I picked up one of his books, a posthumous reissue from the enviable place of continuous readership it…