Sunday, February 17, 2013

Mag 156 In Limbo

Wind of History by Jacek Yerka
The Mardi Gras
left residuals
loose change
loosed chains 
flood damaged futures
accelerated to ditch
 the ancestral domicile
awash to save
Turkey a la King
with dumplings
  while Gramdpa widdled the hours
 to the  right-hand side
of Westminister Chimes
in tattletale pieces
the rattlesnakes
gathered round
the broken table
strewn so piece-maille
strung like-confetti
weighing them down in the mire
all of them
perished the cherished newspaper
gossip by ragtime
windows aglowed by distant spark
hunting ghost-like apparitions
residual memory fields
vastly over-rated subterrean life 
never quite not salubrious
callous proof-readers with offers
coffers pro-offered to the barebones
slimy grind
heaped forgotten mattresses
metres high across the gloom 
brandishing tire iron-maidens
as the burning man brand
ignited latent passions
so as She kept silent
in the cubby by the keeping room
waiting to open the door of perception
once and for all
all for one
she swept the place
halls of  bad luck and slack with preamble
and now without prerequisite halos
She prayed for repartration
or at least a partition
a part to play please said She
addendum; the folcrum car
is stuck and causing
scattering of papers to and fro
no rhyme nor reason here
in Limbo
sterling silver flung
clear across the vestibular credenza
crescendo of broken crystal
She hung onto the hope that dead pictures
could rebirth themselves
horse-hair saddlers
barely there to rein 
black and white salve-like
histoical places
across the parish
of petal-pushers
She who was once wee Page
was on the same page
as the scallywags
hags from hell
flung by fury
to recover only brine
quickly to quiet rectory
turn over a slimy gold leaf
donner party quit
the bellyaching
earlier then on time
so soon Scalped Tickets had parted ways
She tired of the costant headhunting
pasted glittery masks on bloated faces
as Mississippi Stearmers had unglued them
at Inn on The Muddy Waters
breakfast in bed at 7 a.m. to 10 a.m.
no sir, no cover charge
after ten years of tear-gas stains
O' the Mural'd Walls!
in the dull anti-chambered hallway
going nowhere fast and then
 the new order of the day
bring on the hay


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  2. Whew!!! What a journey! I liked this

  3. "Tire-iron maidens." Terrific...

  4. Now I'm really craving some turkey a la king...