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Month: August 2019

Blue Ribbon at The Brine

Posted on 29/08/201930/08/2019 by john keast

The river here bends on itself It sprawls on gravel, tumbles on log and stick It is at the end of its run It has come through gorge and shingle fan; it breaks around the skinny legs of birds, then deepens as the braids conjoin Now it is not a river, but a slow deep…

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from Short March Walkabout #2

Posted on 29/08/201926/09/2019 by Dean English

I’d misread the map and got off at the wrong station. it had an elevation which satisfied my sitting out the morning watching the trains leaving squealing into fog lit spectacularly; a lady crying, a barking dog, a shopping trolly shepherd in a hiViz, humming wires clicking above the tracks bolted into place on cloud-coloured…

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xy

Posted on 22/08/2019 by Mark Prisco

live, then, w wife,  midlife crisis &   god knows what but doesn’t care & i don’t.   the philosophy’s good – pushed hard but good.   more fact than truth; useless   but good. thinking is my enemy, & drinking;   friends, venereal abstinence; inflexible morals; health is   The Most Important Thing tho…

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Tears Salted The Earth

Posted on 19/08/201920/08/2019 by john keast

He was from a farm which promised much and delivered little It sat in the low hills inland from the coast, all shadows and bullrush and dripping gullies A four-room home – two at the back, two in the front and hardly a chair on which to sit They were, he said, poor in all but…

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i wish it was the winter of discontent

Posted on 17/08/2019 by Mark Prisco

I know what i’m doing but i don’t learn from experience.   What hope! when the moon’s horn penetrates Venus & Ur anus [typo] presents itself in my House.   It’s a joke. a misfortune; i’ve the fatal flaw Aeschylus dreams about.   They fall on the pavement, slip thru my fingers & i’m fixed…

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The Harbour

Posted on 14/08/2019 by john keast

A great concrete arm reaches into the sea It controls its temper A swell surges at it and spray floats It gives no ground In its lee fishing boats sit low They roll and tip, pastel sides dipping Children swim to a pontoon – a collie, too, his coat a furrow of black and white…

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The Winds of Change

Posted on 10/08/2019 by gizzyblue

I listen to the rain – on the roof – I hate the fucking rain!!! Most people find it soothing.. they tell me – Again and again – You must be mad!!! If you don’t enjoy… the subtle lullaby – Rocking. rocking. rocking… Even as a child – I used to put my face close…

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dioscuri

Posted on 01/08/2019 by Mark Prisco

i’m skint pale skinned, fit until someone claims me     bitch; sticks his jack in. take pity because it’s   better than nothing. what is it? but pre-emptive this   effacement. i do it good i do it w/out thinking. let the whip fly flail   my skin like it’s paper. cut me down…

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