Across the sideways, bronze framed hall mirror,
A ribbon of infrared light imprinted itself,
Like a streak of alien sky;
Hours later, it dimmed and blew out, like an ill-furnished house.
Other reflections crawled across like tarantulas...
Somebody's corduroy acorn brown trouser legs and spotless tapshoes;
Somebody's long-lashed, hazel-ringletted doll; it was wearing a lacy, tulip-embroidered smock with frilled edges, and it was napping in a nook.
One day, somebody slipped-up; their teacup, which had a watercolour lily design, ended-up on the mirror:
The owner of reflections fragmented,
Until it was nothing but a set of chess pieces, cluttering a dustpan.
A crescent of sun splintered the window, targeting the shards in the can like yellow rose hued rainbows.
A story about a poet, his girlfriend and their pretty complicated relationship (5)
Kurtistani; aab, cddceec, ffb
You say, imagination is a locus
and breeding ground for the scribblecoccus
bacteria that kill relationships.
It's true, my dear, my imagination
can do a lot, let say, look down a dress
or an abyss of cosmos, fluoresce
in infrared light, flash with a citation
of fictional philosopher, invent
a new poetics, but it isn't meant
for you and your incoming incarnation.
At last, love seems to be an act of nature
but just an I.O.U or a debenture -
the noon, the sudden twilight, the eclipse.
#1
planetary caution
shards of ice slow river’s flow -
wet dreams in winter
#2
pieces float seaward
season’s broken spirit weeps –
humpty dumpty earth
#3
glaciers slide downhill
seasonal creep advancing -
uncertain future
#4
man’s season fading
haikus yellow stains on snow -
postcards mailed to self
December 11, 2015 - Brian Johnston
#1
off-color sunsets
red sea's poisonous algae -
men impacting earth
#2
serendipity -
contrails block infrared light
man's goose not cooked yet
June 25. 2016 - Brian Johnston