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BASSET HOUND PRESS


WE GET INTO THE HAUNTED SWING

step inside / my new sensation
        (apparent, gyrations)

take a seat, this kerosene lamp
my family photos – our baby pram
oscillations, amplitude of
        (apparent, a parent)
a most weird sensation


              domestic bliss, yet the old
              cat dies / bent crank fashion

    journaled, on the swing bar,
this room, my best illusion,
this house,
this home, my immaculate deception

can you invert a life, a space
without disaster?
the swinging party leave, just you and me

bones of a home, flesh of a family,
organ grinder down the middle
easy to turn quite inside out, once
you know the spell

    the trick
    the device
    the men

the finale: the guts of our illusion
this inverse magic,
whirling, heaving
we get into/in to/in two
    the haunted swing





Carrington’s 104th birthday

laughing, hyena-like
amphitheatres in the rain
didn’t I know, once
the sound of your death
diminished or grotesque?

the sight of a shawl on a
far flung sandbank
shoal of chipped coals

ancients, undulating
when I heard your name
over the ferris wheel screams

spilling down the coastal slick
to avoid any perception
any weird perversion
of vulnerable fox-shrieks
  


Mark
11:50:37
Monday Nov 5 2018