Like a dog bowl full of cherries.
Cigarette burns in a fake fur coat.
Wax or plastic fruit.
Cats with no tails.
A musical record broken in half.
Books with no covers.
Indigestion and headaches.
Sand in sandwiches.
Balloons that do not float.
There is something horrible
about broken pebbles.
It’s just wrong.
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
Take it away, this acyrlic
heart, take it away and give
it to hospitals, underlie your buffeted dreams in a nether world of
importunate sorrows.
I arrived one day in this place, a hill town of salubrity, every
moment here was a pine drop, moment of the wind, evanescent hills
waiting to be glimpsed, contours rested in broad frames of the mind, rains unleashed weather spots, fruits the odour of pines. I will come back to these hills with picture post cards that will be hung on wallpapers of the mind, not in dark corners of sitting rooms. And in this sleepy town I dig roots of the past, common sensibilities, write a poem with you my surrogate love always asking questions and reworking destinies of love.
We found each other
along the way
not like a stardust
romance across the room
but real work
and real life.
Narrative rushes forward
covering ground,
suddenly running out,
a cartoon character
attempting to find
highways in midair.
Inside her Roadkill Soul
and she’s crying, physically
to such a despairing pitch
that it’s become shudderingly SILENT!
Making everyone
turn their wincing eyes away
in fear of something… unspeakable.
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
I believe in Karma
I’m not sure why
I’m not one for Eastern philosophy
Strictly meat and potatoes
With maybe an arugula and beet salad for color