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A Hundred Gourds 2:2 March 2013
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page 8  

Poets’ Picnic

poets’ picnic —
the black swan of trespass
brings her cygnets

Lorin

watermelon ice cream
grins from ear to ear

John

from the edge
his sonic freefall
straight into the records

Barbara

gazing at the lionfish
through the bubbles

Mary

our tape winds back
to Lucy in the Sky
with Diamonds

Lorin

you, me, and the moon:
a rite of spring

John

blemished or not
the magnolia blooms
speak of romance

Barbara


first dip, a blush of crimson
stains the brush

Mary

la petite mort,
we punt our party
down the river Styx

John

toujours si fier
with a bob each way!

Barbara

cold equations
creeping through the holes
in my Ugg boot

Lorin

deep in the bog reeds
soft pockets of snow

Mary

three weeks on
a dark thing spreads
across the students’ fridge

John

patchouli incense:
even the budgie reeks

Lorin

an hour trapped
in a traffic jam she
sings her heart out

Mary

undiscovered secrets,
every falling leaf

Barbara

tossing it back and forth
between us
oops, a walnut moon!

Sandra

this world of dew and yet
the bunyip’s laughter

Lorin


John Carley, England (sabaki)
Lorin Ford, Australia
Sandra Simpson, New Zealand
Barbara A. Taylor, Australia
Mary White, Ireland

*Composed at Issa’s Snail between 14th October, 2012 and 13th November, 2012


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