Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Poems By Robert Beveridge

Crisis of Expectoration

You thought the tide
would keep you close to shore
but hours later
you're still out. You shiver
as the sun sets, tread
water, look for some
sign of sand

Early Smoke Break

an ant crawls
from between the buttons
of my shirt, out the gap
between my ribs. A woman
carries palm fronds
(in August).
A rabbit
nibbles ivy, seizes,
falls, shudders for a while
before death. I can feel
ants scorched by smoke
from the cigarette between
my fingers.

Fourteenth Century

The Inquisitor
touches the torch
to tallow-soaked logs

tied to the stake
is a rosebush

stripped of their thorns
the roses catch tongues
of flame, caress them
into painful erection

cry sap-tears as
they are consumed

ask a twice-blind god
to punish their sins

and forgive their miseries

Tiny Drawing By Jenny Mathews 12.13.2010

Jack's Bar
the ashes snow
down onto the lemon slice
the lime in my drink
goes cold with the thought
I have seen many worlds,
the wino thinks to himself
many worlds of glass and salt
royalty of dogs and inbred hamsters.
On the rooftops a gun
goes off, a boy's chest
sprouts flowers. He
quotes Baudelaire as he dies.
The gunman, faceless,
ejects his weapon
ejaculates horror
at the boy's words

the gun lands in the wino's lap

Momyou for Men
face sticky fertile earth creature
bask in the rays of this dissection table
take in a few Picassos and think you know art
you glorify stakes
and whisper nonobscene words
in the ears of those
you call your mojo
du stinkst du sau!
du stinkst du sau!
benihara fuckmamma
and relax eyeless
Buy some codependency books
if they make you feel good
seven waves and will
lullabies Orpheus
make you puke
Father Ubu man of the incestuous cloth
You need the change of scenery.
Ice your collar
and feather the windows
mow the dog
and polish the couch.
You won't do a fucking thing
incestuous priestmomma
facesticky earthmomma begcreature
lapsestake fencepost sau

Pieces of Eight
big balloons of brains
called out to earthenware

and you, peasant
thought it the whisper
of the wind!
What do you know about
the way balloons drink?
Maybe if you try to join
in their drunken song
you'll start to understand

The Return of the Ocelot

Mauling the mutilated
ape, the ocelot
thought it better to say

“March off, but first
let me get my mention
in Playboy.”

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