(On watching the third man for the 300th time)
Version 1.12
Harry sips schnapps
elides victims
with a cheery smile
and the cold brass
of an inverse telescope
The pleasure wheel circles
questions, answers
gilt promises
gold
gold, chanel and river weed
burnt garlic
scrabble for tin
in a garden of daggers
like an un-sought apology
shadows spool, congeal
Autumnal leaves pursue
dull deeds with lifeless eyes
A vague voice menaces
with love: "Liebling, liebling."
Her snap-brim says mystery
eyelashes caress slow-motion
a tear
Comfortable anxiety
eases the day to perpetual dusk
A long leather jacket caresses the step
I order another magnum of champagne
Pekinese dogs and one-armed monkeys
waltz until dawn
I take her arm to go outside and
Eros slips a sly arrow
in the grip of a dreary wind
sharp as coffin
On 9/20/06, Kasper <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> the ending is the best thing about this. amazing line
>
> K S
>
> On 20/09/06, Roger Day <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > The darkest days call me, a blissful whiff of Chanel, water-weed and
> > charnel house.
> > Someone keeps scrubbing the stairwell, a heavy, brooding stain.
> > Questions float face down in the water, half-promises and apologies
> > masquerade as a silver statue yet to be built.
> > Shadows spool out before me, arterial blood congealing as I type.
> > Warm voices some seem of comfort.
> > "Mutter, Vater."
> > I can almost taste the garlic sliver knife-like annealed in too-hot olive-oil.
> > A large hand fills out today's portions of flesh.
> > "Guten Morgen."
> > The graveyard with autumnal leaves scatter before Oxford lasted.
> > The bombed-out block of flats.
> > A wide three-quarter length dress-coat sweeps past, high heels clicking.
> > "Guten Nacht."
> > High heels click past, patent leather, wary of soldiers.
> > Shadows grow and retract.
> > I cannot help myself.
> > I say the words: "Mutter? Vater?"
> > Someone with a barrel-organ and a one-armed monkey cranks
> > Totenkinderleider as a dirge-like fox-trot.
> > I look on in silence at the train-tracks disappearing into the
> > pine-forest, so much perspective telescope out of proportion of a real
> > sense of gas swelling like Autumnal music over the pines.
> > Fear and disbelief permeate the necrophage.
> > In the Cafe Danube, there is so much drinking we must do what we can
> > to the merry waltz.
> > Eros slips a sly arrow into the grip of the dreary wind, sharp as a coffin.
> >
> > --
> > http://www.badstep.net/
> > http://www.cb1poetry.org.uk/
> > Suspicion breeds confidence
> >
>
--
http://www.badstep.net/
http://www.cb1poetry.org.uk/
Suspicion breeds confidence
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