Uricon, and on...
 [home] [classic] [simon poetry] [simon prose] [pat] [history] [groups/links\competitions]

Connectives

Peacock-speckled cherry-blossom fan, waiting mosaicly for passing inspiration,
Personal parcel deliveries, illicit public spending, is this valid pleasure?
Splutter at the youngsters weaving bicycles through unforgiving traffic,
Await the bus - Quick, Poet, Quick - Rumbletyres will lose you.

Peacock-speckled cherry-blossom fan, waiting mosaicly for passing inspiration,
The memory fades the pink-white shades on dulled-man grey pavements grey;
Lightly fallen, wind-scattered to form a fraying meniscus,
Let rain loom and weave the powder beauty to rugged pavement memory.

Personal parcel deliveries, illicit public spending, is this valid pleasure?
Stutter not, the parcelbooks give you a worthless sense of worth.
Freedom would be freedom from perception of strained usage
Of company resources that bring non-work parcels for consumerly binges.

Splutter at the youngsters weaving bicycles through unforgiving traffic,
Yet still they live as danger-trailed sprites of strangest energy.
I sit, awedly waiting, as if this would make my imagination match
With pictured scenes of how being dead-dulled is not a problematic fact.

Await the bus - Quick, Poet, Quick - Rumbletyres will lose you.
Awaken the dead, let red-rimmed eyes catch it zombily up.
Perfection will only bring imperfectly sleepless nights,
Clap your organizer shut, silent versely fingers will be tapetting out remaining lines.

So blossom quiets your mind as poetry cannot capture dreaming.
So parcels bring objects to blind one's care of self and hurt.
Despite your cycling, dead still in the world you try to capture.
With hurried moments, fix with care-words all the damage you have done.

- Simon Huggins, 23rd April 2002