|
THE WRITERS POST (ISSN: 1527-5467) VOLUME 11 NUMBER 1 JAN 2009
|
CHRISTOPHER BARNES ___________________________________________ three poems by CHRISTOPHER BARNES The Play On
stage they were bulrushes Hair-splitting
illusionists, A
twitter realised, Swivelling
owl-light eyes Trimming
faces with bonnets.
Insinuated
into abrupt hum-notes But
the fill-the-bill incident Was
that fever of lust on us. Rose
bed and velvet plaints.
The
balcony tiresomes threw wrinkled necks, Sat
up.
To Let
No
word of a creepy-crawly Under
the banistered moon, Cake
smithereens on a washbasin’s skirt, All I
read Are
personal columns blindfolding windows.
This
address is thinking back To
flesh-warm life Transiently
rendering in strong relief Dogwatch
dawns When overshadows
of restless eras Budge
into each other.
1.The Family Beaunier
Cock-a-doodle-do
the pale sun. One
and one and one the
arrondissement’s Lost Tribe exotics queue.
Square
one’s a cameo of Boulevard Raspail. Let
us go…
Not a
cock-a-hoop day, no Degas. A
shuffle of misput evacuees shooed-off,
mooching to law courts. They
crumple papers flickering
grit under leather soles -
I misremember the echo of feet.
Square
one’s a cameo of Boulevard Raspail. Let
us go…
I am
not yet born. We’re
leftovers in
the rough-sketch outlines of a circle.
Mama’s
a voice tu-whit-tu-whoo
tu-whit-tu-whoo, spiked
heels stabbing.
She
shudders, looks
to a vim-on-mould horizon, refocuses,
counting
soldierly security checks.
Square
one’s a cameo of Boulevard Raspail. Let
us go…
To
Paris from the east dark
rumbles of clouds. A
choked gust lingers.
CHRISTOPHER BARNES, UK The Writers Post &
literature-in-translation, founded 1999,
based in the US. Copyright © 2009 Christopher Barnes. Nothing in this magazine may be downloaded, distributed, or reproduced without the permission of the author/ translator/ artist/ The Writers Post/ and Wordbridge magazine. Creating links to place The Writers Post or any of its pages within other framesets or in other documents is copyright violation, and is not permitted. |
|