Long Bric a brac Poems

"Who Put Luebella down the Wych Elm?"

There are rumours
about me, some 
come seeking me
with their geiger counters
and ouji boards
with their heart 
shaped planchettes

unanswered questions
in the woods, crackling
within the sounds of leaves
invisible dead things speaking 
underfoot...

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Chief garbage taster as fifth grade Halloween gag
at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School
interestingly enough landed me a grubhub grab bag.

I rooted thru poetry anthology of mine,
and came across an unpublished poem
by one obscure poet (me),...

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at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School

As a Halloween costume, 
one year during early grade school, 
my father got the brilliant idea 
for his sole son to be dressed 
with one of a kind getup.

Missus Shaner...

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Chief egalitarian garbage taster i.e. “white trash”

As Halloween costume, 
one year during early grade school, 
my father got brilliant idea 
for sole son dressed
uniquely rubbish qua 
putrid offal getup. 

Missus Shaner (talon clawed, 
shriveled relic...

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The indecision builds 
while staring into the velvet covered bible
and knowing that you have already
read more than was necessary.
Yet you stand and read on and on
hoping that one small word
will shine into the dark crevices
separating...

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The putrid, malodorous and fowl nauseating smell 
   can still be conjured nearly fifty years later wracked
I never forget ineradicable tangy, sulfurous 
   acrid odor rankled olfaction tract
entire sinus cavity, yet...

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Upon bitterly cold dawning hours of one January 2000 day
the Harns family desperately sought a place to live – “hay
there” Nelson Swartley (an independent realtor) 
politely responded bringing unwelcome news viz our sos re lay
informing...

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KISS OF CHEMO           

                     ...

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"Simon Edy, known as Old Simon, (1709-18 May 1783) was a London beggar who may have served as an inspiration for a popular nursery rhyme. He lived in a derelict "Rats' Castle" in the rookery...

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1. A dangerous vision coveting another,
blurred by envy to need a mental monocle.
she burns in such deadly blast
not to realize the soul already promulgate itself
to the better one.
Nothing can serve as a wake up call
to...

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Based on my consulting this year’s almanac    
June 30th being the best possible day for a BBQ out back
I sent out invitations to everyone, I didn’t hold back

There was the lumberjack, the...

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Lights on dark canvas, the bow drawn back
A star arrow poised to shoot into the black
The archer's eye aims, he fires into space
But what is the target?The human race?
The brightness approaches, slowly at first
And then...

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Back then,
backyards were big enough
to nurture a growing soul
and provide a space
for the earth to play out
its seasons in full rehearsal.
There were wide tracks 
of grass, trees to climb, 
old sheds to rummage
with their interiors...

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Had a purge on my study today,
Loads of stuff to go away.
CD's and books, DVD's too,
All gathering dust, I'll never view.
Lots of bric-a-brac, pictures galore,
Cushions and ornaments and much more.
All stacked and piled on the...

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Library ~ daytime, empty, shelves are stacked
book for every reason, season, nothing lacks
waiting for the internet, it's Oh so-o-o fast
and my mind might diminish, with the facts!

Speed one ~ and even reading, can't sit back
I'm...

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Your suicide 
Wrests the act from the hand 
So that fire can envelop the bottle 
And skyward 
And bright
And living 
Technicolour dances in extremes.

We effervesce and burst 
We rise up and with a fury
A million...

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I think back of yesterdays
And particular summer days
When my brother and I might be bored or
Deviously in the mood to explore

Instead of conniving trouble to arouse
We would remember that old house
Abandoned way down the road
Decrepit...

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The bric-a-brac shop waits on Rue Nationale.
In a sleepy French town.
It opens at ten,
And closes at one,
Till three.
Then on till seven in the evening.
Madame opens the shutters
Before going to feed her little dog,
Hettie. 
Hettie's toenails...

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Into the lane
come wind, impetuous rain.
Trees are now a threat,
gesturing wildly, angry,
promising to snap,
eager to pounce,
to crush in an embrace
of leaf and crusty bark.

The village fête, though,
is like the show:
it must go on,
it must go...

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The art was most masterful on the dark canvas

Within the thick of night his hand was full of sweep  
beneath the Muskan moon the artist quivered not 
Etching silver dollar stars the artist took...

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If you found a fragment of an ancient Greek vase in sand on the edge of the surf, you can find as well all the others, provided that you have an eternity.

A time;
a sea;
salty and...

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Let it be recorded
my wish to live
where I can sleep 
in good weather or bad
on a beach festooned
in the bric-a-brac
of the ages.

Perhaps a vanishing glow
far to the south
all that is left
of that common pestilence
known intimately
as...

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Once within these very walls farmers woke at dawn.
The field was full of vegetable, the cows were in the barn.
Life was full of chicken clucks, and Mother's who could darn,
bales of hay stacked within but,...

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My blood calculated 
The width and diversity of my body
My hopeless spirit level
My anchor placing sunken paws
Into the grips of the dirty earth.

I have grown like good stock
And unhinged myself of 
My restraints and set...

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'The silence of Marcel Duchamp is overrated'
All that chess-
Recall for a moment
That idle chit-chat,
That verbal bric-a-brac,
such flamboyant suppositional consciousness,
Let it noodle around the edges-
Blow this metaphor off.
Ratings challenge lies.
The deep magenta shadows,
The haze of grass...

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