Sunday, July 20, 2014

Free


Late Sunday risers
consider briquettes.
Samples in paper cups. 
Frankfurters.  Beer.

Fresh from church,
a dressed couple prattle on
about which brand of chicken
they can afford.

She pokes her finger
in fleshy shrink wrap,
looks at him with spaniel eyes.
He thumbs a calculator.

All too happy not to be
duly plucked, pantyhosed,
bibled and heeled
I hum muzak,

toss a breast in the basket,
without discussing
price, or the freeness
of its range.



tk/July 2014


R.A.D. Stainforth enhances my words...with the addition of Stainforth Blue to his black and white world... 


Sunday, July 13, 2014

Foxed


Someone made a wish,
pressed a flower,
left a tear on the page,
below trees
slashed with names,
hearts cut in bark.  Splashed
river water.  Catfish.  
Cat hair.  Dog-eared.

Pocked yellow pencil.  Scribbles.
Foxed.  Cough in a concert, a kiss.
A single glove.
Cigarette ash dropped
Hansel & Gretel style
up frayed steps
to a lover's room.
Wood sighs.  Sheets twist.  
Sock with a hole.  Rain.

Mud.  Drainpipes.
Brave earthy things.  You.  
Damp.  Preferably mellow,
a little bit worn.



tk/July 2014


Lovely mellow read by R.A.D. Stainforth ...






Sunday, July 6, 2014

Found



There are dozens.
Unearthed.  Scrappy.
I open the door.
Some try to get out.

Casanova figure-eights,
makes love to my boots.
Fat one naps in a hammock,
another watches from the eaves.

Then there is you.  Waiting.  

I practice this moment in my head,
half-remembered.  Silent.
Nostalgia draws us, deliberate,
as if we have always.

I hold you, feel the scratch.
Look in your melancholy eyes.
Tell me everything.
I like to be sad.


tk/July 2014


Beautiful poignant read from R.A.D. Stainforth... 






Sunday, June 29, 2014

The Morn's Night



An hour ago,
I was a child of fables,
pokeweed.

A tongue roller,
chewer of grass
I could graft an oak from a twig.

Meanwhile, it's another o'clock;
acorns drop from grown trees.

The moon bellows baritone;
omits the chorus,
replaces it with zees.

Vitruvian sweetness finds me,
springing spreadeagle
wheel of honeysuckle.

I forget sleep;
shake out the pillowcase,
wrap it around my head
for a babushka

sound a klaxon,
hail a hackney carriage.

Get to Falkirk.



tk/June 2014


R.A.D. Stainforth adds a bit of magic... 





*A Game of Patience, 1937 by Meredith Frampton