And For Some The Abstract Is Real
It may be that the concrete image of a milkmaid’s stool,
It’s splintered and worn-shiny wood grain, gray-brown,
Three legs supporting a two inch thick oak round,
Twelve inches across, even in the mind of a fool
Can evoke a poetic response, the thought near-real;
A Germanic root is more oomph-palpable than a Latinate,
Yes, and it’s smoother, easier to say “the cat that ate”
Than “the felus catus that consumed its meal.”
But those of us lost in a verbose cerebral vector,
(Excuse me, I mean a too-wordy place)
Intoxicate ourselves with the oblique andobscure nectar,
(Er, uh, get drunk on the sweet drink, whose meaning is not plain)
Distilled from the idiomatic remnants of an ancient Roman lector.
(Oh, you know, brewed from pieces
Of language with a Latin stain).
Categories:
latinate, writing,
Form: Light Verse
There is a door in the sky
For those who wish to escape
From the nurse`s worried glance
To red lights that turn in the street
From the soft tread of a priest`s shoe
To a latinate fast finger of magic
From the over-the-top of Flanders
To the heavens that play dice
This is more life than you`ll ever need;
For those who wish to escape
There is a door in the sky.
Categories:
latinate, death,
Form: Free verse
The Queen of Spades trumps all
In our game of hearts
And other organs
Tangled in Greek and Latinate names
Ependymoma
Epinephrine
Endymion
Wake up, Shepherd!
The Black and the Red
Call you
Kings and Queens battle
The rules don’t allow for discarding
Draw from the deck,
Choking the progress with wheeling lights and coloured geometric shapes
Hearts
Spades
Diamonds
Like crystals
Crystal methamphetamine to make the cards fly faster
Clubs
Club the senses
Introduce new shades, purple kush
Orange and yellow sunrise
Swirling blue and gold
Smoke goes up and enter the kaleidoscope.
Your kaleidoscope is white
Fluorescent light
Perfect background to lay the tricks
Deal the hands
And take your pick
Buy? Fold? Try again?
And when we’re done
We’ll pick them up, one by one
Put them in order again
And lay them away in the dark.
Sleep, Endymion.
The Queen with the black eyes is your sign
In dreams, everything is fine.
Categories:
latinate, brother, death, family,
Form: Prose Poetry