Category: Filí my pockets
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A sense of subtext
Her swan hand banded with opal and topaz, straddled a gilt carafe Her neck like a pale giraffe emeralds green as glass glinting like egyptian caskets Elastics fasten her hair into exotic fashions, her architect an artist of passions Her tacit manner, a taciturn mná, she is hewn with many facets Even the bold are…
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Going out for messages after the world ends
Anthrax-tinged winds winnowing through nuke-bared trees Cold as the windowless, hissing like geese the burning steels Kissing her feet while the burning steals The world around us, even the ground dust Is dangerous, another mushrooming nighttime sunrise Demise of some great nation Violet light like an auric field around the stricken power station I can…
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Garden of Poisons
Domestos rivers snake Take route through Rows of poisonous roots At whose centre is a lake Of lamp oil and snake venom The vellum on which the poison bible developed Is tinged with hellsent emetics, diuretics, and genetic Excretics which’ll turn a helix to pathetic dregs Cultures of gas-pumping fruits in art class clusters Rills…
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I’ll take care of the arrangements
I am fed to the fens, since fenced off My friends all dressed in black, femme fatale Sherilyn Fen They kindly compare me to Sheridan La Fanu After all he’d been through, no one imagined he’d die to a flu Just goes to show no day promised, that adage is true Of course, he had…
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The Gardener
Mr Foley ate lunch on our lawn He still had his gloves on When he finished up his luncheon His pick quick work of the air between him and the ground’s hair, like a policeman’s baton Clattering an insurgent’s head, station said it never happened. Naturally as a gardener he had a love for all…
Alchemisland 