illustration by Arthur Rackham |
Erstes Märchen
(an underbelly Spring poem about what happens when a
cursed to live forever victorian shoemaker pisses away his luck)
he spends time walking
the rhyme narrow
shop stone lined streets
these beaten completes
centuries old
smooth to jagged toothed
elliptical life,
strife, struggles,
booms, thrives,
classes, symbols,
divisions of labor
and spoils for the hives...
this was his life's billows
and bellows, frenetic and
dust hazardous...
his life in soft furious,
quiet beckoning him on...
he was at the pub
in his old town
who knew
he could not
make a shoe...
his city always
talked to him
telling him
to lose himself inside
walls and thoroughfares
explore my venal corpulence
his city would hymn
ascend and fall along
my atrial cavities
this is where
chorus rings out
and dance cards scent
form to what whispers
you are meant to hear
your pleasant distractions
so near the drowning of sorrow...
very few things
moved as slow
as he liked
most moved
too fast
"I made their dress too fine
and lined as if corset cinch wear
I swore by my oiled leather
and smoky haze filled linger
I thought they were going
to stay forever..."
what ran
through his eyes
towards passers-by
outside remains
unknown...
this is an
out-of-sorts-and-fashion-cobbler
fantasy poem
a tome roam for he
who left alone
wishes, thrones
harder work
than he had
want for
there were begs
of coalescing afterthoughts
something of who he was
or might have been once
had he never met their magic
or buzz dizzying vibrations
cobbler is warbling
cohesive coercive
sermon-ettes to himself
with awl and punch
scissors and intricate
stitching laced
for more pleasure
he spits and sputters
between eloquent sound
and mad disjointed syllables...
"and a good bell tongue
for your fat bottomed
wenches I fancy..."
he bellows
whilst he collects
a picture
of what home
may be
as he
courage stammers
tippling ale
in ye early evening
gas lamp and glass flickering...
he stumbles out
muttering about
"I wish I had left them
just in their skins
I need to get back to calling
to those damn elves again..."
EJR ©
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello there ...