Friday, February 27, 2015

3 poems || John Grey


head-high meats and joints
hang like picked of picked
clean a waves it's I want cut
and thin each slice held up

since I stepped out I kill
a day does it be helped
some ways are must could
eat of her floors

from the you can dive
and swim in a small mile
offshore the ice cold
on your head to the side
each slow breath as though
it were time

and dear you must think
I walk well for I went in
two no one to sit with
or you know what she's like
and a third pot of but I
am not one to vow but that
to ring

at night the boy is
bright is the beat
the dark make of his eyes
this tree he knows
these birds are out
of this pine launch

the here forced to boom
high place in my head
on my else or then
the mid-air waits pure
her boat she drags her
one fell in a new rain
take back our from her
the walls piece of
a sour view


he writes from age
dull cross-complicate
in shred words
letter form
like wedding presents
like the volts of
perhaps the word sent
from lager
from fumes of the inescapable circumstance
from the Winnie the unbeliever
pooh the degenerate ice-man
from the unequivocal
mattress instruction
you are the strong man willed
to broken avenue
language structure
motor symbolism Assyrian as all
re, nanett

and then the remnant
voice arguments
stiff still as the white window
as the Persian guilt
as cement mixer tirade
blue velvet winter egg smash dream
palace of the arcadian blue-bottle
semi-converter odds off the edge of
tomorr'ws plantagent dread echo
dull as fish-paint
as Kandinsky's dick
as the fife drum band
of the licorice stick-up hand manure play kettle
as the void instruction rogue limits
titan of the underwear
broadside saints live in capitalist hill-rocks
movie magician swallows the canine
vestibule best for all convicted
for the soundproofs of halos dictatorial
moon-fast shadow-kicker
wildebeest balloon…
metaphysical ruminant in hodge-podge


crumbs take their places like the members
of an orchestra
rococo roaches promenade across the rusty sink
sun exuviates light up and down
the faded linoleum
wall-paper shreds ripple in window-crack breeze
like a boyhood lake
discarded socks bloom in their own grease
an oasis of off-white wildflowers
splashing in old saliva
seraphim and cherubim mice burst holes in the sugar
packets, gouge on sweetness
curses, like butterflies, float up out of
cracked mouths, raw eyes,
congregate around the
cigarette-stained ceiling
bruises are hung along an arm like paintings
at a gallery
needle tracks await trains giddily like children
the hole in the wall is a way out of and a way into
the poem is one more hole in the wall

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