Breath-Taking Poetry

He Stood There In the Remnants

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GRACELESS AGING

My Mistress;
we had an extended sabbatical to breed apart,
your son from him
my son from her

Together again
your small breasts sag like cloth change purses,
the decades deflating
the platinum perkiness to impertinent pennies
-- the small change interest paid on life’s investment

Gravity pulls us
into the spinning grave that is Earth
Gravity pulls us from the warm light
sparkling in our eyes
rewarding our devotions & celebrations
with brittleness, tumors & Alzheimers.

Gravity pulls us
D
E....D
E....O......D
P....O......O
.....M......W
.............N
Gravity, the ungracious gargoyle crushing cartilage
subverting our uprighteousness
bending our spines to its swill

Gravity pulls mine down also;
what once was pulled up robust ready & red,
resplendent in bloody lust
the bold exclamation point of my want you & want you & want you
pointing all proud & loud to the glorious gods
droops now with the dumb destiny of sated desires

After a lifetime of flights of furious fancy
in the vast lunatic lunaverse of my imagination
I am descending onto the runway
without landing gear.

A FIST FULL OF FREEDOM

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Poets Fled to Their Garrets

THE BLONDE BITCHES OF BLAKE

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THE BLONDE BITCHES OF BLAKE

Ten years ago, a ménage a trois of bitches became renown throughout the imagine nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry for saving 20,000 annotated anthologies of William Blake’s Collected Poetry from a fate worse than mediocrity.

In the heat of Word War 738, the main library of Poempeii had suffered a major airstrike from Bland Land and collapsed. Bills of lading indicated that the platinum-printed Blake anthologies had been delivered the day prior to the strike. The anthologies were nowhere to be found in the lightly-damaged shipping & receiving depot of the library. No other evidence was available to indicate the location of the books in the vast complex of the library, so Ginger, Honey and Sugar were called in.
The collapsed library was fragile and perilous. This fine family of bitches consisting of a mother and two daughters, were undeterred and sniffed out the precise location amid the rubble. Their sense of scent was so highly developed that the bitches needed only a single line of “Tyger, tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night” to trace the whereabouts of Blake’s glorious illuminations. A brigade of Virility Verb Volunteers from the National Bard excavated the area and rescued the buried anthologies not ten minutes before the ground gave in, swallowing high literature in a single belch of banality.

Throughout the imagine nation, the poetariet celebrated; units of verse of the unitverse gathered in a Million Muse March to pressure the Poetburo to designate the trio as the Blonde Bitches of Blake. The following year later the bitches were promoted to the honoured poetsition of providing escort services for visiting artist dignitaries from other creative sectors of the imagine nation. The bitches began their careers in Poettsburgh, Poemsylvania distinguishing the distinctive scents of ubiquitous free verse, the boozy breath of limericks, the delicate fragrances of rhyme schemantras and the brittle odour of aging sonnets. Their tight familial bond provides a visceral collaboration that transcends all previous pack conjunctives.

They achieved the highest level of success for the Lost and Profound Dep’t of the Poetection Agency of Poempeii where they had been employed for the first half of their career. There are numerous instances each year of poetry and portions of poetry being windnapped out of a child’s careless hands. Random breezes will swipe a first draft rhyme, as easily as a fully developed sonnet.

Poettsburgh authorities released incident reports for 2008 revealing that 16 limericks, 4 quatrains, 2 rhyming couplets, and an entire sonnet had been swept away by wind. The Blonde Bitches of Blake were known to be able to follow the traces of imagination regardless of where the poems had been flung by intransigent gusts.

The bitches also served in the Sub-verse Dept for a handful of years. This is an odious but necessary service for the imagine nation – the search and seizure of doggerel from the pulp friction industry.

JENNIFER LYNCH TEXTUAL PREDATOR

The Poetburo of the imagine nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry announced that Mz Jennifer Lynch, head honcho of the bureacrazy of bloated bland glands known as the Canadian Human Rights Commission has been convicted on several counts of textual assault without a Poetic Licence. It must be understood that the imagine nation is the ultimate State of Diversity and it will defend its turf against the textual predators of political correctness.

PREVENT MEDIOCRITY, BE POETICALLY CORRECT.

The state has no right to be in the bedrooms or mouths of the imagine nation.

SANDING IN ART