Eight poems

by Stephen Thorne

    

1

        
        the blue's not real(however
        has been real.just
        over()dreams()enthusiast 
icrantings
        yello
        also whiteness over
      bl(emphasized
        )eeding bleach(y flesh)
    ings/the beach on the other
        hand offers
        copious momounts of beige
fawn brown
        from the sewage outfall
   colours the crystal sandings
        Lazily(
        emissions
        )from the black heart of britain 
        sound(
 searing)
        -a blood of it's own
        true volition





2


like the soi-disant sun this
so-distant son of kinds,
pretender
to the frown

Of recurrent nightmares luged(the
loop now) redolent or opport
uni  tie  sun
seized  -hello-  I've come

to invade your lebens
        raum-the painfall
full
-fold wretched breathed
bee  nee

them solves crypt
iclues Igloos in mind
the ice-floed trip-tych
dalliance issued in west-

send palare  polari
polaris  polar eyes  polarized, the 
planet Venus as moaning
star hangs      darkling.





3


I ran blue
dyed
through
the streets

home(out
of the fire and
into the frying pan)

yolk-following
the slimy trail
of the snail
Destiny

wrote of following
where the heart leads
or was it against
or was it bleeds?
The shell cracked
for sure
and out oozed
four
flights of fancy;

1.
they throw interesting shapes

2.
an Angel and a Devil

3.
damn this insularity

4.
damn this insularity.





4


faith throws us further apart
Fate draws us
            closer away

      BLOOD

lovesablinkoftheeyerend 
ersthisworldunconscious

of religious fervour

      LIFE

laps upon shores
further away.

That you can miss.
or saunter past (passed) over


We will never find it.





5


the Widow.Love

alive in shagpile me
hurting you shipping the
pink misfortune that is
sea and every shoreshape
that surrounds(it)baby

mist in deliquescent(mystery )
bodies foam unrestful
souls with an axe to
grind

sparks splinter off every which
way but towards the true
stars that
blind

pretty deluge of unknown
constellations drug me
down and now I slumber
peacefully beneath a
duvet of crimson clotting
death breath





6


tan
the yapping of oak
bruised to extract
fallen from the
beige
very bright
unbedded
the colour of wool
fawn
a young monster
it's call a wilting
yellow
chocalate
a paste or hard
cake dark
brown is the menstrual
sienna
or natural stillbirth
which provides burnt
pigs
ochre
o'olock where
it should have been
sepia
incline to red
or yellow mix
it sunburn to
somebathe or roast





7


snatches a day
-glo
lie
m.rinse  ?the
myriad cluster)pin
kandy
ellow(bombs
of crocii
bluster
,sir
(h)ated edges in sunfloweryellower 
violet:the violencesignorbreath
neon(s)
for the gotten time
.
Silk
and sanch(o)north
wind blue
the doorshut justlike silver whoremarks
;the(G)old(en)
dustface
mask
crinkles in the celestial palm
of90(
born
where nasturtiums wilt
).





8


Easter poem
the garden tools Jerusalem
a visual aid
*
MonApr494
*
stopped
six years of finest grade
dust
*
Blueyed
*
(unadorned?)
unAmeri
can
*
old gaze
(two short one tall
)next in lime
-the pickling jars
and russed
*
dipper the headswim thought crank can
*
what the sewage gems
mussed

by Ficus strangulensis

    
Date: Wed, 6 Dec 1995 13:57:43 -0400
To: Jukka Lehmus <jlehmus@cute.fi>
From: far@medinah.atc.ucarb.com (Forrest Richey)
Subject: CyberGrail [Mark I]
Status: OR

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