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Posted by g.lyle on August 27, 19103 at 15:08:19:
In Reply to: Quarterly Publication & Poetry Contest - Submissions Wanted posted by Mark on August 01, 19102 at 07:54:08:
Ha-ler Halleluiah- heavenly halo hangs on her
like a vintage lampshade shinning through
front porch screen - it’s night.
She abundantly stares at RobertFrank’s photograph.
The long Hwy has no one on it. She feels free kicking feet underneath a wood chair
knocking a Merlot bottle onto it’s label
yet she waits still in the humidity.
Cotton pollen in the heavy air like a huge snowball thrown that explodes on the ground before your feet- cross Edgerton Street
Up the curb to the 2 directional reptile’s back
That shows extreme signs of scoliosis.
Trip -wards For or Back
His motion is kept in streamline sentences
exchanging R I for U in every third word
A direct relation to John-Doe Luck
With the thick foliage on the block
the pail moonlight intervenes in every third exertion
this makes his face look roughly stupid
from the viewpoint of soldiers far from home.
There’s no shame in staying with U
to show what you really mean.
Up close people’s yards are small with
land mines mortar bombs
mounds of anthills wood pecked trees
a cautious dog bit in fleas.
Ha-ler Halleluiah- sons of the hostel host
gone to hell
Ha-ler Halleluiah- I-ran still scared.
The dog coward behind an old bush where
he was conceived eventually to die.
Where a little shrub will take its rotten flesh
for fertilizer to grow larger and prosper
unto an American Big Yard. Where he breaks off a war-
sign stuck in the ground
that advertises like a yard sale.
To hold it up facing a DT skyscr made of mirrors-
standing there looking for hope in the reflection off a road that never ends
the sign will reflect what is really felt.
For now he’s near his best boy-friend’s home.
The block he came from had a residential bar
between a local meat market Catholic nunnery.
For the young 20’s the bar opened up like a flower
For the older drunk fellows that flower’s dead-
remnants of the good smells linger in
scotch whiskey beer
but never near- the excitement of the first spring.
Ha-ler Halleluiah- He starts to sing
U. Can. Be. Me. If. U. Want. To-Be
U can be me. If u want to.
R I to become U too.
He never had a better skill than depression
in the way gusto runs a gundog
searching out dead game
that’s shot up and fallen to deep beauty -securing love.
He stands in a pool of what looks like blood
Ha-ler Halleluiah- he/her hug in laugh
their grip tightens more with time past.
like the aging of strong wine.
Ha-ler Halleluiah for Robert’s Photograph