Saturday, September 15, 2012

Two Poems by John Grey

To present,
to smile.
to the country church,
its stem spire
to the light
to the shapely shape,
to wear our blood,
tonight's totally naked.
Today I sport a smile.
Today it's too far over the top...
tree hole trucks start up
with truest respect
Trust you
try some of
turns on the
two buildings up
under the bridge,
undoing, just so,
vin rose.
Vive les grues—
wanted to die.
Was an object of
was trees
washed through me
waves goodbye
waves of nausea
we look stupid as a half-door half-open
Where I found
where my father thought he'd take up preaching
while the other hand whispers to me,
white dove appears,
white trash wins another prize.
with its sun across
with my indignity rising
with the germs
within his
womb as I am,
You should come over
You want to
One said the oath,
or just windows,
or martial music melodies
Other said
out of thin air,
out the half-door,
page humbly
pay it anyhow;
predictable habits,
ridicule the price,
Screams the light:
she can find the...
She gave me,
She kneels softly
she sweats,
shining, shot,
silver waters
simultaneously dreamt
stand out in a crowd.
stillness in the last red
stood my fingers
straight-ahead walk,
strapped to street
stuck under my own subconscious...
Such does its
such lessons
Swallow me
take drugs,
the garden of first sips, second chances.
the limit of the dream.
the sum of people
their hooves
this bloom,
this missing
this one tastes
this too shall pass,
Through the angle
Thumping the window pane
to dry -
to lift into the clouds,
to meet here Wednesday.
John Grey has been published recently in the Echolocation, Bryant Literary Review and Caveat Lector with work upcoming in Clark Street Review, GW Review and the Potomac Review

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