A Hundred Gourds 2:1 December 2012
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page 7  

Iridescent Green

iridescent green the lizard in my head

every shade of neon caught in the glint of his tongue-stud

the last “nowhere” privately owned

where would it be without bindweed the tumbling shed?

in zero gravity the dice shows 6 eyes

out of fog into fog a procession of bicycle lamps

a trail of crumbs from cradle to grave

rotting windfalls visited by every neighbourhood wasp

from a radio the “djin djin djin” of Joao Gilberto

sultry heat two toddlers stamp and scream in Boots

per instinct my feet turn North

i ask the bathtub spider to stay put while get a glass

a cheeky little chablis mingles with moon

counter clockwise in the Omnium men like gold-fish

Koh-i-Noor cursed and heavy with blood

my inner discourse here and there a cardboard face

which constellation does the dog slurp?

in the laundrette a moth dies next to a straw hat

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance*

tears of a roasted saint travelling through space

Sheila Windsor, England, & Johannes S. H. Bjerg, Denmark

* W. Shakespeare – Hamlet

Parked Car

rap from a parked car the faces of dusk

”it's enough to breathe” the pavement littered with drunks

talk of summer late the whorl of snail and rose

seemingly eternal puddles will these reflections ever fade?

round again the fb Einstein grin

whining jaw muscles she's made from lemon juice

tortured thoughts of suicide Lal Bibi's rape

ten trillion cells not one thinking straight … or 'bout hopscotch

circles Stonehenge at solstice a phone to each ear

day of silence the language on food labels untranslatable

evening bells I recycle the letter A

digitally remastered on blue-ray the anniversary E.T.

men like ants like men in/out the tube

without the job he complained about for fifty years lost

a girl with red toenails coffee served in German

well if they mean that much to you wear 'em yourself ...

Osiris takes time out for a beer

I AM melts into distant motorway somewhere out there roar

dead whale a new king emerges blind

all I can recall is the dandruff split platinum ends

caught in a bottle Psyche* turns into a fly

Sheila Windsor, England, & Johannes S. H. Bjerg, Denmark

*   Psyche = ancient Greek name for soul and butterfly


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