slump slow day
lay low day
let the wind blow day
nothing to show no way
~
peace pump day
sleepy hump day
don’t get in a grump day
get ready for the jump yay
~
heavy hangs day
clapping hands day
show no fangs day
hear what your favourite bands say
~
c’mon get krunk day
feel the funk day
take a whole chunk day
take out the junk Jay
~
Baby don’t cry day
don’t ask why day
don’t be shy day
don’t take my love away
~
feel full fling day
get in the swing day
sing sing sing day
do some thing any way
Cut
by Sylvia Plath
For Susan O’Neill Roe
What a thrill—
My thumb instead of an onion,
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of a hinge
Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.
Little pilgrim,
The Indian’s axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Carpet rolls
Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz.
A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they on?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to kill
The thin
Papery feeling.
Saboteur,
Kamikaze man —
The stain on your
Gauze Ku Klux Klan
Babushka
Darkens and tarnishes and when
The balled
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence
How you jump —
Trepanned veteran,
Dirty girl,
Thumb stump.
Flying Fish
Spying Fish
Dying Fish
Frying Fish
If you surround yourself with good people,
As do the bricks of the church gather round the steeple.
A solid mountain we can hope for,
And love, as does smoke, out the volcano pour
Last night Hannah and I totally slayed some Ethiopian food, we made Ethiopian pancakes (injera) a couple of lentil dishes, one spiced with ‘Beberé’ a pretty intense spice mix and a coconut milk mash potato. Pretty dangerous stuff.
A couple of nights ago I wrote a poem,
And so and so and so and so
He thought and thought and thought,
I wish I had more time for thinking,
More time for sport,
More time for reading
and swimming in rivers, lakes and ponds,
More time for writing words
to as yet unfinished songs.
“But this want is good my dear,
I would far prefer to fear
The passing of time, than to hold on
To times passed too dear.”
