Christopher Mulrooney
three poems
**
castaways
how you shower us your dowers
of history in miniature with its
bric-a-brac and rickrack
not that you need know it
how you reckon us your powers
of meaning and eking out in bits
what's what and written on your back
some words someone scarce a poet
put there so the queued next who glowers
shall read and thence recall his wits
loath to lose all knowledge of his lack
and why there should be any to bestow it
**
this just in (au cinéma) this just out
where were you
while the morning stars sang
why I was receiving
my jobation thank you
very much
as the anchorman
said to the weather girl
j’ai la plaie
dit-elle
on sait
en vérité
ma foi
regarde-moi
s’il vous plaît
la tourterelle
Blondie’s back
in a very curious remake
all her kids are clones
the newsreel features
professional wrestling
who‘s playing the trumpet
in the second row?
roaring lustfully
like Bashan bulls
the loudspeakers
stampede
**
an Elizabethan film
the lesson is by rote only
and I don't give only all my answers with his
..........pomegranate fruit juices staining all my sleeves
up the gump stump
now shearly thrown down like a switch at the latitude
..........of any American depot oho huffers and puffers
shake the wind loose from the locks barges lazily drift
..........among the first few free clouds
walking amongst the lilypads with a mere bit of elongation
and then it subsides in the plastered homeside
clairobscured by candlelight
with twists all in her hair
worries about her own progeny
all down her line
to the end of the tracks
**
return to sawbuck 1.2
**
Christopher Mulrooney has published poems and translations in Zoland Poetry, Spring, Eclipse and Upstairs at Duroc, criticism in Elimae, Parameter an The Film Journal, and a volume of verse called notebook and sheaves.
**
castaways
how you shower us your dowers
of history in miniature with its
bric-a-brac and rickrack
not that you need know it
how you reckon us your powers
of meaning and eking out in bits
what's what and written on your back
some words someone scarce a poet
put there so the queued next who glowers
shall read and thence recall his wits
loath to lose all knowledge of his lack
and why there should be any to bestow it
**
this just in (au cinéma) this just out
where were you
while the morning stars sang
why I was receiving
my jobation thank you
very much
as the anchorman
said to the weather girl
j’ai la plaie
dit-elle
on sait
en vérité
ma foi
regarde-moi
s’il vous plaît
la tourterelle
Blondie’s back
in a very curious remake
all her kids are clones
the newsreel features
professional wrestling
who‘s playing the trumpet
in the second row?
roaring lustfully
like Bashan bulls
the loudspeakers
stampede
**
an Elizabethan film
the lesson is by rote only
and I don't give only all my answers with his
..........pomegranate fruit juices staining all my sleeves
up the gump stump
now shearly thrown down like a switch at the latitude
..........of any American depot oho huffers and puffers
shake the wind loose from the locks barges lazily drift
..........among the first few free clouds
walking amongst the lilypads with a mere bit of elongation
and then it subsides in the plastered homeside
clairobscured by candlelight
with twists all in her hair
worries about her own progeny
all down her line
to the end of the tracks
**
return to sawbuck 1.2
**
Christopher Mulrooney has published poems and translations in Zoland Poetry, Spring, Eclipse and Upstairs at Duroc, criticism in Elimae, Parameter an The Film Journal, and a volume of verse called notebook and sheaves.
