I Can’t Make Neither
a head nor tail out of this beast
who shrugs and our ship yaws.
It’s pelt moves up and down beaches
as it shuffles along continents.
I can only see as its curled its face
and tail in sleep and we pitch
over its dreaming, every twitch
a ripple or wave as it hunts,
as we fish its judder, catch scaled insects
that live beneath its slumber.
Clouds get plump on it’s visions,
then wander inland to downpour images.
My mates have drowned in its speculations,
overcome by its meanders and cogitations.
They died in its sleep. I shake
at the thought of it awake.
Out of blank space
gouge out shapes
of apples and light,
as instrument digs
a blister into palm
He cannot afford mistakes,
steady handed controls
citrus bite of wives
Strong stink of oxidized linseed oil,
resins, ground cork, wood flour
and pigment all pressed together
and flattened. In later life
after bull sunned atrocities.
If mistakes made
disguise, or begin again.
A head on challenge.
Black eyes carve the shapes,
Print bold red, yellow and green.
A still life, unstilled creation.
Paul Brookes is a shop asst. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). The Headpoke and Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017), A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Port Of Souls (Alien Buddha Press, 2018),Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), Stubborn Sod, (Alien Buddha Press, 2019), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). Forthcoming is Khoshhali and Ghost Holiday (Alien Buddha Press, 2020) He edits The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews.
Cover Photo Credit: Kylie Supski
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