Archive | May, 2018

The Network People by Bob Freville

26 May

The project of illustrating this book haunted my life for the last year, yet when I emerged from its netherworld, the pictures were like a bouquet of blooming horreurs and the stories themselves were nightmarish visions, coiled around the arms of worms and snakes. Apparently, it has been unleashed into this world today.

Advertisements

“This Reflection Casts a Shadow”

25 May

“This Reflection Casts a Shadow”

You never told me

about the raccoons living here

or your marital highways

as the raccoon in the suit

is upstairs waiting for me

to light this gas and fade away

brilliant sunshine from all radiators

never a flame forever

we play our part, our favorite roles

I’m moving away

I’m not that sort of person anymore

who can move with a place

this diet of lasting years

leaves me tethered to a tiger’s tongue

wandering through the fields

the zeal of tundras

and ravens at my back

I’d clear my name

in the flexing eyes of crossbows

hawks wear leather bags

because this crossroad

and dye our darlings

and all the memories cold reptile toes

and blue show me a guide to mend garden crawling up our beds

the rain is a pelt, happy to be worn

and your wild eyes through the years

this is the poison part

with all they glided over lilies.

“We Were Out of Time”

11 May

“We Were Out of Time”

And places

and wolves to do that

and tricks the canary played

in closed hands

and rain beams

and frosted roofs

and scarlet dream

your cowboy clothes

and the robot lending missing pieces

to the memories of June

in fountains of electricity

pour you, through seasons

caught behind a door with your first love

a whiff of perfume and stirred to the

kissing, skirts adrift for flames

peach of peaks and the pesce

of heavy petting

one last sword to graze

the fizz of drinks cast overboard

the crackling of parting

and parties below deck

slips through silver hills

just as blinding, locket hawks

and silver men in sleet

a night on towns when unobserved

the beast reserves

of shameful things

and toyed the knocking

and what are joys

the buds aflame

river-smart and jeans

and needles coated fast and blue

and terrorize

the peeling night of denim means

the birds were anonymous,

as we once were.