We’ve got a spider issue
in the bathtub
she says
Tag Archives: poetry
Not a little women’s world cup
They scored on their first possession:
left-right-left-right-winger-striker-bang!
And that librero they had:
Never was a girl so free.
We’ve opened the inner sky and you’re gliding there now
I can’t stretch this page far enough
to show where you land. I can’t
see it myself. But the way you’re going
you won’t make a sound.
You’ll be the softest landing
earth ever did know.
No, not now or ever
Certain things can’t be.
Nor need they be.
Drops lie flat in the watery plane
once the impact
of the impact has died
Alert buzzards of yesteryear
Alert buzzards of yesteryear
have come to claim what they left,
but again I stand
to shoo them away.
The water’s on for a pot of tea.
Scarecrow drinks while birdies get gone.
Hang 10
The slick of paint’s a wave to ride
till you’re perched upon the crest that’s dried
Wrongly roams the mind
Like Satan in Job in need of a job,
testing the rest (at God’s request?),
every last link to see what gives
I’d like to go down to where the day went
To see what one does
when not a day.
Maybe there’s something he needs.
Can I be of some assistance?
No, we’re fine here:
we love the mist
of shiftless play.
I have swum in worlds and seen no people
But hints of fish did keep me there.
I felt their passing left and right,
‘lusive loves in starfish night.
Who was Crocker Jarmon?
If you don’t know,
don’t look him up.
And if you do know,
don’t presume you do,
but swing to see him
searching there
that modern desert modern air
for eyes to shine
however small
and drinks to drink
swords and all
Utrecht Journal 