Monday, May 20, 2013

Three Poems by Joseph Robert

All Talk

His whine interrupts and won’t stop
Even when politely ignored

Before his sunken eyes, you have no choice
You must listen, or fight

Exploding in his mind are a billion worlds
Strangled into twenty-eight lines

Tall tales of the decapitated mail-order Finnish wife
Stacked up in sections inside a wind-swept silo

Bulgarian and rusty

Worked there too, sure, yes, something for the Army
Through the government, by way of the powers that be

He’s Satan’s Facebook friend
An all-round good man

This is safe C.I.A. stuff
An actor playing the character of a character

Silent for too long, he had to speak
Indulge him

But then he bends low and whispers in your ear
Young girls gnawing flint axes, by his silver sea

Beneath a stump of the Banyan Tree
Your flesh creeps, but you’re nailed to the chair

In the woods, you two apart, he’d skin you alive
Wear your hide for a vest; make your scalp a rag

The Tribe would kill him, afraid of his fear
But The Country understands

Part of that bargain
It remains all talk


Flecks of mineral, white in red dregs
Hard water and dirt in them dregs

But the lees sounds so mucher the betterer, the best dregs
All hints of chocolate and rounded fruits

And, and Dionysius’s fashionable mask
Goldenly E.U. stars on blue smudge

Reassurance of highest quality
National Geographicca typico, besto in all the bloody mess

Vine bile, or grape tar, or agro syrup,
Or portable, potable, pissable heartburn

Unfastens the thinking and lays a body low
Two scoops of, no, Medicine to forget

Yeah, yeah, Medicine to forget
Read, in a mag, root o’ culture, bulwark of civilization

Like getting down on all fours to sip the waters of that, that
Mystical river, the one, you know


Medicine to forget
How it works, forget

But always remember who makes the stuff
Where and why for, and what they charging?

That’s a good Primitive
Title Pending
Copy write libel
Copy white lies
Copyright copy
Copier joyrides
Pimpled arse cheeks pressed
On bare glass plate, funny
Copy test papers
Copy collations
Copy and submit
Copier of copies
An original wears through dog-eared to dust
But never dies, context changing
So, what do we call it?
Joseph Robert was born and raised in the Midwest. However, he has always been partial to Hawaiian beaches. Nevertheless: Go Badgers! After living and working for several years in rural Japan, he now resides in London with his wife, writer and poet Leilanie Stewart. In his spare time, you can find him at the British Museum trying to teach himself how to read Sumerian cuneiform. Don't worry, yes, he has seen Evil Dead, so doesn't read any of it out loud.

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