Thursday, August 25, 2011

there is no of

disregarding breath is a cousin of death

once removed.
the praxis of disbelief comes flying thus
through a coughing and gasping hysteria
only there is no death really really really,

the goldfinch has beautiful wings.

a truth birthed of lies if ye follow.

yes memory no memory
through the pierced pellicle
of sun streaks yellow orange
now on the branches of an oak
you can barely remember.

little jimmy beat with a bat,
susie swooned against and wept.

initials perhaps in carving
from a blade now rusted
with a wolf risen emblem
that once you were proud.


  1. you weave your usual magic with images.... the goldfinch line was so complete and so surprising and so perfectly placed. it was a treat of a line.
    a lovely piece.

  2. @Seann: Thanks for reading.

    @Harlequin: Thanks for continuing to mosey on in. I haven't been very productive lately. Ha!

  3. Gerry,

    I sense an autumnal swirl with your words. A slight hint of leaving, but hanging on in there (thankfully)!!!!
    I enjoy the surprise of your words Gerry.

    My best wishes to you and Wendy and I hope you will be safe during the 'Irene' visit to your shores.
    Best Regards, Eileen

  4. 'really really really' - liked this one, Gerry. Thanks for it.

  5. @Eileen: Thanks hon. Writing sporadically and spare these days. Thanks for hanging on.

    @old333: Ch333rs!