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Month: September 2019

the lonely shepherd

Posted on 30/09/2019 by Mark Prisco

watch me is Glimmering is Shard is Moon, Diadem? Tourniquet. Clusterfuck Mind -bomb. holePunch. Shadow:                           the shadow   crawls drawls on the sidewalk.                       the chestnut canters arboreous wood, upsets the underbrush, my vines                                                                once laden, my boughs.                                                            no help for   lost for a sign: you! here when i never, when i never your…

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up late

Posted on 28/09/201928/09/2019 by peterlebaige

up late staying up late for so many things need to be said the day will not admit nor spare you a sheaf of hours to thresh in saying, for so many things need to be said, the town to be replaced by a fade of broken tears, the loves unbought to be paid for,…

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Flying in 3B

Posted on 26/09/201926/09/2019 by emjay

  So there he sat. Two rows forward. Aisle seat. I’ll see. Front row. One see. Sharp-dressed nonchalance fashionably.   So pleased with his iSelf hiSelf. Unboxed new ear buds and pulled out his iPhone. hiPhone. Look at me-myPhone.   Launched his music app and tapped play. Back Street Boys clearly audible two rows back…

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Roses and Anchors

Posted on 21/09/2019 by emjay

Unique, with meaning beauty and feeling. Determined to choose the perfect tattoo.   Rose. My Dad has one on his forearm. Red. With my Mum’s name across it. Green ink now bled into his brown skin so you can’t read her name anymore.  Which I quite like for the sake of my stepmother.   Tribal…

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Hat With A Feather

Posted on 18/09/2019 by john keast

The hat is where he left it He is not in the field The years have passed I still expect a work-rough hand to take it from its peg, to check the red feather in its band Its poor brim is bent down He pulled at it in habit – wore it in rain and…

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Offensive Keep Cup

Posted on 11/09/2019 by emjay

Beaming barista barely visible over her bench.   ‘Kia ora’ says me. ‘Kia ora’ says she. Te wiki o te reo Maori.   ‘Long black’ says I. ‘He pango roa.’ My keep cup handed over.   ‘Bloody try hard’ mutters grey-head behind me with angry eyes rolling to the ceiling.   How offensive must my…

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gratuity

Posted on 09/09/2019 by Mark Prisco

moth-winged the sail spread crepuscular   oranges, red. lines of sky, sea. i   fold; stems bend, petals   before thee, o strange one oh   mystery. she plays         intermittently with hair,   hands, her art eukinetic   leaves no trace of cutting. strikes the object of her knowing. i don’t…

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Sea change

Posted on 07/09/2019 by emjay

Will do became didn’t. One day never came. Dreams to be special. Up ended the same.   Downplaying desire. Safe settled at ease. Boats never rocked. Harbour over high seas.   Sheltered from risk and uncertainty. Cure worse than disease. Mediocrity.   Striving for perfect. A sterile fixation. Right favoured over imagination.   The realisation…

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Threesome from Hell

Posted on 04/09/2019 by emjay

(from a long time ago)   You made me this way. Pointed expectations. Craving your praise.   Tryangulated. Deadicated. Manufractured myself. Hard edge serrated.   Holy hell trinity. If only I knew. Me, I, and fuck you too.  

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comms

Posted on 02/09/2019 by Mark Prisco

you was here i know. your dear bones years hence  – the impossibly       distant   future. not even   stones are what   they was &   lingo   so dumb! hands tabled   drums – – /   anapaests scratched on skin, hotel   doors, spondaic   fist falls: Will Not   alter…

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From Rotoiti’s Heart

Posted on 01/09/2019 by emjay

Fishtail’s fangs dripping white blood from a passing cloud. The Richmond Ranges biting into the cool blue sky.   Wairau’s braided arteries spill shining into Cloudy Bay.   A bronze beaver stands, sterile. An artificial, rigid, vigil. While sleek black eels seethe under Opoua’s dark glass.

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