I haven't written in ages; I'm afraid I've lost quality in my writing...in any case, behold, random abstraction.
is a teeter-totter.
Go on, play us a slip jig.
I fell flat on my face, fiddle in hand.
Later, I played in the cracks in the stairwell plaster
and a hairline of Mary appeared
Pert, she was dressed in a Navajo rug.
I'm off to a wake,
keep my baby asleep.
I woke up in Ur, the baby full of grog.
The sand birthed a lyre, a feathered rattle,
and Levi, servile, passed a tray.
Reeling with a brave in a sheepskin rug,
I saw Mary's face on the back of my timbrel
starting to snort out a hora.
Chalky cast on my sun-bronzed arm,
I hurled it, green-faced, to the sand.
The baby left sputtering, Maimonides and I ran back to the playground.
Poetry by bluebackpack
Read 610 times
Written on 2009-08-11 at 07:08
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And this, said Maimonides
And this, said Maimonides, slapping my back,is a teeter-totter.
Go on, play us a slip jig.
I fell flat on my face, fiddle in hand.
Later, I played in the cracks in the stairwell plaster
and a hairline of Mary appeared
Pert, she was dressed in a Navajo rug.
I'm off to a wake,
keep my baby asleep.
I woke up in Ur, the baby full of grog.
The sand birthed a lyre, a feathered rattle,
and Levi, servile, passed a tray.
Reeling with a brave in a sheepskin rug,
I saw Mary's face on the back of my timbrel
starting to snort out a hora.
Chalky cast on my sun-bronzed arm,
I hurled it, green-faced, to the sand.
The baby left sputtering, Maimonides and I ran back to the playground.
Poetry by bluebackpack
Read 610 times
Written on 2009-08-11 at 07:08
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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ngaio Beck |
