Free-Write Poem With Picture #3

Alexander Tinei

Today's her birthday and we are arcs
of light in the afterdark
pharmacy, playing paper, scissors,
stone with the Ativan
machine. Our one religion
of breaking and entering. Her reflection
in blue-grain tinsel
through the moon-tomb
windowpane is a Renaissance
painting of classic,
anaesthetic proportions. Lowering
the sulphur and the hovering
lanterns of illuminated
barbiturates, down into
the cavern of our lungs’
breathless apparatus, the song
begins. And if she remembers
the words she shall be dead.
In the dream, a nuisance man, wearing
surgical mask, flags a hearse, waving
tombstone-white dove.

(Another free-write poem fragment by me – and painting by the amazing artist Alexander Tinei)

Advertisements

Free-Write Poem With Picture #2

hg

If she keeps notsaying the thing

is that as good as sayingit, she wandered.

Hands, fluent in silence. The awning

kept an awful countenance,

contemptuous above the concrete.

Broken bricks in forlorn walls

toothed the street-mouth, little

sore-dust asphalt sharks that dart

beneath the tenements. And who

amongst us was betrothed

to the truth, she bartered. Poetry

was the way she waited forever

outside the closed door. If you listen

closely, every name is called

except for hers. Now, do you have

what you came for, have you

something red, shining, unjust

to write about?

 

(another free-write poem fragment by me, and artwork by the wonderful Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen)