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by Marilyn McIntyre

And in between i write
up at seven
muffled dawning
coffee - eight
and in between i write
study horos
cut off contact
sunken nine
and in between i hate
masturbation
satisfy nothing
ten is saved for rage
in between i quit
wrestle paper
red of day
elevenses come buy
ice cubes, ginger
snap, to noon
drinks and tokes and lies
in between i hope
one for ponder
questions, cosmos
times for sleeping, learning
and in between i write.




the wild poetman of acadia

poetry for breakfast
cannot hear other lies
size twelve work boots
striding, striding
blackening pages
mosquito blood inscriptions
forest, flames and gases
tasting wild with ease
scoping, scoping, scoping
scanning forest leaves
secret mosses swathing
a primal breakfast core.




midnight snack

chocolate breasts
whipped cream thighs
honey suckled toes
the world is rich
in ripe desserts
when eaten without
clothes.


connecting to infinity....

possibilities, outcomes
floating weightlessly
irridescent, intangible
mapped in stars
touching down
as pixie dust
and flirts of angel hair
choices to the right
paths to the left
someone has stolen the fork
in the road
moon cast wrinkles
characters ‘cross the lawn
where oh where
has my little mind gone
garrulous cotton candy clouds
griping frenzy
whisps of knowledge
ancestral crones
weeping, moaning heart in tears
annoint myself in
dandelion down
roll my head
in passing nimbus
connecting to infinity
again and again and again and again........



Wicked Stepmother
For Amanda

let's just talk right
through the tears
this time
dim electric
lightening candles
whispers
surroundsound night
softness, sky
our hours
hurt together taking, touching
giving
let's just talk right
through the tears
this time.



A Study in David Michael Jackson #1

are you happy
adjusted
do you have
funky days
are you glowing
fired up
do you possess
a helpful rage
are you faithful
passionate does your muse
return your gaze
does your heart race
are you listening
can you harness
precious praise....



the changelling

old friend you became my mother
the years were all so kind
and yet
i miss our naiviety that life
and time would always be our friend
i honour your passing
into your cocoon web
and yet
i search for you
in every casual encounter passing by
i miss you
and yet.



lunatic fringe

i need a fringe
around my soul
to lightly ruffle air
to serve, protect
caress myself
in tumbling, glossy
ware
my cloak of gods
softness therein
feathery brush
console
complete myself
minimalist fuss
and remain a whole.



past presents the future

in synchronistic swimming round
let my people come
master hidden
mentors, muses
music soothes me
doubt assuages
teases, tortures
lay my soul upon my pen
let me lie with sleeping lambs
let my inklings come
flames console me
candles implore
floors for weeping
cool tiles to soothe
ice encases
sorrows, embraces
let my angels come

Copyright © 1998 by Marilyn McIntyre, All rights reserved




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