Filthy and Sip

October 10, 2013 at 4:32 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , )

Rib rattle plastic box.

skellyton

 And over bones

a calloused thumb is pressed wrongwaywards on a pin, pain kept comfortable on translucent epidermis.  Starting every time with the want to –

every time –

to stop before that time that was the start the first. 

 

A dawny buttery ritual  with its tea or coffee (neatlyplease)

on hardboiled ceramic white

skipped –

or stoic. As though in accordance with the darker longer hour before.

A private protest logged only

in same-old drooping eyes and intestinal moan.

 

A life strewn across cabinet in tablets bandages creams powders drips pills pipettes

and duh duh

duh damnable biology. Orange pill crowning microgestin tinfoil,

there the sweetness.

 

Nogra Arikha, historian of ideas, worries about the prospect of collective amnesia. It is said. And broken out of ohso appealing loop of malignant time paradoxes (some days self pity is speculative fiction), a sulking one lifts its skulking brow. The way it thinks,

it thinks,

is far too persistent and ugly. The way it thinks, it thinks,

might be better left be.

 

Just one implicit tear would be enough. Token thoughtless sorrow ringing from thoughtful mind;

 

an effigy.

 

It (cruel)

became an island; and cruelly  forgot – such thoughts are bitter (pump adrenaline) on a guilty tongue.

 It draws its skulking scowl. An involuntary sight

of sand

by night, riddled with wet coils from worms, of worms.

A hagstone skimmed then sunk with bubbling weight on its brine.

 

The water claws about everything and sometimes makes a hole.

All poetry eventually leads to the sea. As does breakfast.

Permalink 1 Comment