Picaroon Poetry - Issue #10 - September 2017
We have a strange and wonderful line up for Issue #10 - including (but not limited to) smugglers, dinners, literary icons, an octopus, a tapir, pop stars, and the passage of time. Featuring poetry by Stephen Daniels, Stella Bahin, John Grey, Claire Lloyd, Lorraine Carey, Kathleen Latham, Natalie Crick, Leda Muscatello, Billy Malanga, Sarah Shirley, Pat Edwards, Monique Byro, James Croal Jackson, D. Dallas, Neil Fulwood, Howie Good, Michele Stepto, Tristan Moss, Joe Cottonwood, S.E. Acton, Brett Evans, Samuel Kendall, Philip Flynn, Belinda Rimmer, J.A. Sutherland, Kathleen Strafford, Catriona Yule, Patricia Walsh, Nick Romeo, J.P. Bohannon, and Hannah Stone. Enjoy!
We have a strange and wonderful line up for Issue #10 - including (but not limited to) smugglers, dinners, literary icons, an octopus, a tapir, pop stars, and the passage of time.
Featuring poetry by Stephen Daniels, Stella Bahin, John Grey, Claire Lloyd, Lorraine Carey, Kathleen Latham, Natalie Crick, Leda Muscatello, Billy Malanga, Sarah Shirley, Pat Edwards, Monique Byro, James Croal Jackson, D. Dallas, Neil Fulwood, Howie Good, Michele Stepto, Tristan Moss, Joe Cottonwood, S.E. Acton, Brett Evans, Samuel Kendall, Philip Flynn, Belinda Rimmer, J.A. Sutherland, Kathleen Strafford, Catriona Yule, Patricia Walsh, Nick Romeo, J.P. Bohannon, and Hannah Stone.
Enjoy!
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Philip Flynn<br />
From the Gutter to the Stars<br />
We lie in three, behind the baby bunk<br />
and away with the light,<br />
for gentle song offloaded in tin themes<br />
drafted upwards to the top-beam<br />
by project whale, project octopus,<br />
half-hand, half raised, points<br />
to her wonderous awe at the painted shapes,<br />
and challenging with syllogism, the stereoscopes,<br />
but your magic is mine, is<br />
one vista north, one west,<br />
gently clenching the underearth and<br />
eloping from the damp cheek<br />
As we pass the desiccated woods,<br />
three half-moons anoint us,<br />
the jaws of open space devour<br />
where the sun skillets the sky,<br />
and Christ’s birthday draws<br />
my placid self inward<br />
My returning, vulturous self<br />
licks clean the bones<br />
and gently repositions the mirror,<br />
together we can reminisce,<br />
a rearview squint at a dull<br />
and distant and rusted past<br />
Instead, I place you there,<br />
a smaller me of wide eyes<br />
and arms raised.<br />
I pick you up.<br />
I squeeze you tight.<br />
I kiss your eyes.
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