Monday, February 16, 2004

A Monday Pote...

DREAMING (Of Maiden Angels)

by billy forbes 1980

She and other people swim in the pool

while I seek out the man to murder

in front of everyone who laughed.


I work at the empty warehouse

standing in the green field

and walk up the road with a woman

after work's over or we quit.


We were windsurfing over sharks

and running from the fifty dollar restaurant

they chased us to rails by the river

but somehow we outwitted them.


A brunette artiste explained

her eastern colours to me and others

and by standing she reached

up to kiss me more than once

in fact about eight times.


But I don't know what they mean

a few of us just stood on line

waiting to get into the video theater

and we sat down with Italians

to watch a gas-economy movie.


It had only begun when

Ilfredor's voice called me to

arise and prepare to go

to a lecture by my advisor

about sculpture in the valley

like who done the power building facade

the maiden-angels in graveyards.

         And there you have it, the Monday Pote.  Paintings & craziness tomorro~i am on a Presidential vacation...


slacbacmac said...

Austere borroed potery should set=off
my previous sappiness...
Good thing this guy has his own books,
Other=wise, i'd steal him Magnificently.

z7snowflake said...

Thats a nice peom, I like to write poetry also. :)

merelyp said...

Dancer and grandmumsy r glad you are feeling poetical. I especially like the Eastern voice I hear: one stands ON line out there, and IN line here in the midwest. Now, as to what further Easterns have to say about western art...
"...I know what I like..." It contains white space, as do poems. W/good reason.

floralilia said...

well put your feet up, Mr. President slac, sir. you deserve it.


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