Long Pylons Poems

SOLITARY CONFINEMENT 1 : Number Four


Many chains, many locks and bars
clattered at four in the morning 
black bitter coffee drugged
a single bucket of cold water 
         ...

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Chapter 14b (King Ptolemy the Second)

With a travel bag to carry
Their belongings and essentials
And they rode by wheel-borne carriage 
On the road down to the harbour 
 
There they stepped aboard the vessel
That would take...

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Part Two

Do you remember your run-up to the crease
      your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots
your anger
           ...

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Beneath the city the river fishing is good.

I roam with tackle and pole below those wiggling tapeworms
Wound around the cement underbelly of bridges
Devouring the guts of the city’s glamour
Down here where shadows are long as...

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The tale of the high kicking raspberries in two hundred lines of silt and steamed porridge oats.

Keynotes noted kissing keystones keep keystrokes kingly. But kingly is often not associated with kindness, kinship, or kept keepers...

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The Tal-Dareem are fighting-mad;
They've realized they've just been had.
Expect soon Zealots and Stalkers,
Immortals and those "cliff walkers".
Zerg Hydralisks are assembling just out of range,
Supported by Roaches, Infestors, Banelings,…
The Mutalisks are hovering beyond our turrets,
Brutalisks are...

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Hitherto a sleepy way-lost village,
Shall now enter history’s fresh new sheet,
Vain may turn lessons of its farm college,
That would wonder how men should the greens treat.   

Poor greens to greed shall now the...

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The Coat Hanger

Let's travel back in time to 1928, the place is Sydney (Australia)
The local government wanted to create a harbour crossing from 
the North to South of Sydney, architects were brought in to 
draw...

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The apostate looked out his window,
and started to believe 
As genuflecting pylons, 
sent ramifications through the trees
Chaos looked at reason,
was it about to make a plea
I see Satan’s raising an army 
or so the nihilists...

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I have no crystal ball

Very little perspective at all, 

About what the future holds

I root myself in the present

But if you asked me for my thoughts, 

I will explain what I think

It could surely be...

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Anti-Poem — “Snaking It To Venice”

(Poet’s Instruction: Play “The End” by the Doors loudly, while reading this anti-poem)

it’s you and me baby inside this gliding duster
this ’74 green plymouth cruising machine blasting
spit fire and gasoline...

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I can see us kicking around in our old hometown
Where the pylons buzzed crackling with dampness
Into the open cast crust of the iron ground;
And as I recall there was never a time that felt as...

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I

wet cat impaled on telegraph poles
serrated ashbrown fur
tinged with flinting silver
a mirror blue
cut by guitar strings on a shining plate
bathed in molten evening shine

jet streaks through pylon barrage
windshield wipers’ hemicircular swipe

dry cat’s crusty baguette fur
ashen...

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The tide worn and barnacled pylons
holding up the wharf wobble 
on a sea swell like loose teeth.
Most of the decking planks
are missing. Those that remain 
span joists with bones
of rotted wood fastened down
with rust. A...

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Limerick crochetés: Once a band of non-hearing sans abri*

Once a band of non-hearing sans abri*
Camped on the banks of a highway free
Full score years stopped traffic
Begged at lights electric
Police scrapped their dear home sans country

Held...

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Counting perching hawks
trying to watch what they watch
while a speeding car 
beneath tense feet
races to overtake whatever blocks
each sideways glance.

Fifty percent of all bird songs go unrecorded.
Multiplexed avian modulations leave us
questioning our own questions.

Pylons loop...

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A light wind gently rocks our sailboat as
breezes begin to pick up on the sun drenched dock. 
Cable wires rap and tap upon the mast as
daylight filters thinly through the clouds. 
Egrets begin to peck...

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Just off the busy road there’s a dirt lane
that leads to a weather-worn covered bridge
where Red Tails gather at eventide.

In the sunlight the birds flicker on hot winds,
rest and watch on pylons and poles,
then rise...

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                                  ...

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Just off the busy road there’s a dirt lane
that leads to a weather-worn covered bridge
where Red Tails gather at eventide.

In the sunlight the birds flicker on hot winds,
rest and watch on pylons and poles,
then rise...

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Like silent sentries
in a row
the pylon docks
await my arrival.
It is low tide as I
step onto the
gangway.
Crusty barnacles
cling tenaciously 
to the pylons
as salt sea water
laps the rocky 
shoreline.

A lanky blue heron
carefully picks
it's way
between the fingers 
of...

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The air was metallic,
it had the taste of long spilled blood,
the smell of copper pennies.

A red-eyed sky prowled through bare trees
wind-smears sizzled over steel pylons,
a galvanic hissing ignited unseen frights.

Heat and cold were deranged
by magnetic...

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The air was metallic,
it had the taste of long spilled blood,
the smell of copper pennies.

A red-eyed sky prowled through bare trees
wind-smears sizzled over steel pylons,
a galvanic hissing ignited unseen frights.

Heat and cold were deranged
by magnetic...

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Swirled in the majesty of springtime dust,
Infused recombinant DNA,
Genetically modified dandelion clocks
On the breeze are borne far away.

Super-weeds with strangling intentions
To spread from estate to estate,
Mutated betrothals with arable death,
To marry the wheat and cross-pollinate.

Where...

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There are armies in our countryside
Vast columns, marching in single file
Through our valleys
Over our hills
Across our meadows and crops

Huge soldiers like Martian machines
Striding across our land
Roped together by umbilicus
Humming with energy
To satiate our unquenchable thirst...

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