May 8, 2014

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


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