Thursday, October 6, 2011

poems || Vernon Frazer

Attitude



Terrible and round with glee,
he raised his straw erect, bleeding
contortions blind.

Allegro, roared the mark on their proper shape.

Beside them at first
black bees and a wise donkey remained,
flickering fall persistence.


Middle-aged Berkshire Napoleons seemed to hear me:

three hairs
from a million dollars per hour,
home again.

Delete this.

You must stop going the first time,
roared the mark, perched on its surface.

It seemed to hear me with that!

Australians eye dogcarts
clutching any form resulting
from Kansas: conversion
by any living fight club

lashed
in honor of provincial borders

beside them at first. Right now,
trademark license fee or else:
half-pay, cabby.

Despite these words, we’re gone.




Order of the Day



Sonic platelet du jour
remands custodial casements


for
chronic retail demands
or
detailed statements

berating fiction as fact


when chronic truisms demand
their far shore, adhering to the
sand-filled cracking of resume


gauntlets pursued as shaking
poor placements misconstrued


as
branding delinquent repartee
at
play in the fields of the gored

attacking the breaking diction

chronically late to implore
placement as basic command



Ending with a Critique of Pure




Spitting belfries shatter lumen frenzy pits.
A scooter, though the pace may stream
its derby, rollers caning platform shoe norms
a priori. Penciled fire to the curving deck,
wrecking transfer gumbo. To facile ostinato

makers or tandem reflex tangent, patterns
marooned on the glare of a sunplex platter
shared among flattering emanations
the corollary zeal of irrational bondage
during afternoon's delay. Staked to influx

obdurate passengers stare reciprocity
matters squarely in the plectrum, a splendor
more vivid than scattered batons on rivets
doored to irate pectoral entries, floored
as a relayed position slowly staving face

pavement where the ladder pares down
the drivel hoop to hidden baskets weaving
text margins, no flourish appended next
to the eagle font. Its nourishing largesse
lent the matter a frightening sum from

grinning necklace teeth, darkened
in reluctant shadows plodding regal
in their weight and stride. Beneath late
multiplicity shadings, mandala carvings
mutter full splendor marshes. Under

tread, looming pamphlets clattering
the bit, noisy teeth unfurled a spectrum
ordinary feelings flicker, bare light left
to pivot against the shadow’s late glide
to scatter noumenal envy under cant.




On Deadline



A cold wall stutter
intoned, its pontificated glyph

marked the surfeit’s rendered portent:

adagio lumens,
the nicety flailing the flags
of past gallantry,

a wherewithal enamored in the knot.

No freelance desists rafting
past mention of durable utterance

staking amoral claim
to lifting measured legends
past drywall custom

or fledgling nuance cast ashore

nor gall to mutter
the stale fragrance the memoir

brings to utter the present rift





Too Near, Too Far



Darker mirrors, template massage
steer the lowering chordata swarms
through seepage emporia slated

to worm canister fiddles down
the button path. Leading zippers
to rippling department operetta

scores. Punctuations erectile as
guest incursions mount specific
vagaries on time. Slots allotted

their camel hump add unvaried
stumbles to laminated polymers
imprint glucose mirrors on the fly,

no ointment too good for the recent.
The tune picks its lonely rapture, a
touch too near the breath of lapel.

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