chair, whip and arena...

photo of ‘Berl’ the Hermosa Beach CA, barber by Rory Corcoran ©
 

barber chair

( trip fancy relaxation in drip time pieced capture )

searching my grails

I was at the local foundry

for a clean trim and tame

of my sundry repulsions

I went in for a quick tune up

of my regenerative cogs

and soon I had new clothes

and a whiskey floral smell

there were silk blossom

strung leis sublimes

funk perforations

giving the impression

of impervious regard

guarding the door called trust

heart and soul unwinding

thoughts go on

a docket with lift underlings

beneath me whirred about

gathering my angled information

the packet trees and pocket squares realities

spit shine and buff point the looking glass

madness calls again

wait I say the poem isn’t done

they never really are Edward

madness pretends serious matter

is all there is to hold as it covers time

in tendril filamentary unseen(s)

so poet

while you preen

pretend to lean sharp

falling for women with large bottoms

and silent raptures for eyes

death says why don’t you

bring your life and blank page and

come over to my test program

I am your certification ritual

ready to begin

seeking life

inside the walls

you call a heart, again

meanwhile, fantasy says finish fast

the imagery is getting muddied

and would I mind leaning back

for more applicatory linguistics

says my poems suffer

from affixation escape and cage

in porcelain, brass and leather

swiveled to what mirrors see

EJR ©