All Poems
/ page 127 of 3210 /
Guysborough Road Church
© Clarke George Elliott
we are the black loyalists:we think of the bleak fundamentalismof a ragged scarf of lighttwined and twisted and tornin a briar patch of pines
George & Rue: Pure, Virtuous Killers
© Clarke George Elliott
They were hanged back-to-back in York County Gaol.
Everything Is Free
© Clarke George Elliott
Wipe away tears,Set free your fears:Everything is free.Only the lonelyNeed much money:Everything is free.
Blues for X
© Clarke George Elliott
Pretty boy, towel your tears,And robe yourself in black.Pretty boy, dry your tears,You know I'm comin' back.I'm your lavish loverAnd I'm slavish in the sack.
The Ballad of Othello Clemence
© Clarke George Elliott
There's a black wind howlin' by Whylah Falls;There's a mad rain hammerin' the flowers;There's a shotgunned man moulderin' in petals;There's a killer chucklin' to himself;There's a mother keenin' her posied son;There's a joker amblin' over his bones
Ballad of a Hanged Man
© Clarke George Elliott
Geo: Their drinks to my drinks feels different,I'll stomach a stammering teaspoon full,but Roach laps up half the half bottle.He slups glass for glass with the best.
The Assassination of Indira Gandhi
© Clarke George Elliott
In Kitchener, Hallowe'en frost chokes roses,The spruce gangrene, and haystacks flame in fieldsWhere Mennonites preach black, scorched-earth gospels
To the Ladies
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
WIFE and servant are the same,But only differ in the name :For when that fatal knot is ty'd,Which nothing, nothing can divide :When she the word obey has said,And man by law supreme has made,Then all that's kind is laid aside,And nothing left but state and pride :Fierce as an eastern prince he grows,And all his innate rigour shows :Then but to look, to laugh, or speak,Will the nuptial contract break
Shopping
© Christakos Margaret
She goes from store to storewanting to spend money on herselfto forget him, his belligerent asshole idiot self.
Restaurant
© Christakos Margaret
On an island once I caught her by the elbow,tossed her onto juniper, kind of prickly, you know,yanked the cases off her thigh pillows,got my tongue out to slurp the wet messof her pussy
Relative
© Christakos Margaret
The mysterious boy withoutparents has a gash in his purpleface & out of it unfolds an escalatorof primitive idiom at which we grimacewith involutant ribcages.
Queen (9-10 p.m., Eastern Standard Time)
© Christakos Margaret
I was just trimming the beard about my sex(Sorry if you did not know royal women do this)
An Open Erotics of Gzowski
© Christakos Margaret
The voice of the bodiless lover is a tropefor the world's brooding power to scintillate our aliveness
