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Category: poems

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I promised you a poem about bacon as part of the counterlyricwards advance. ©Marie Marshall

jupiter

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The potpumping of counterlyricwards poetry continues. ©Marie Marshall.

jupiterIt has suggested that no one writes poetry mentioning bacon. Do not worry – I’m on it. Very shortly I shall have a bacon-oriented poem here for you, so stand by with the tomato ketchup. Meanwhile if you go here, you will find one of the missing poems in my current sequence, ’62’, which has been kindly showcased by Angélique Jamail – in fact I wrote it specially for her Poem-A-Day feature. Angélique has also transcribed a lot from an email I sent to her in which I explained my ‘poetics’. I hadn’t meant to complicate things with such an explanation, but I guess it’s good that it’s ‘out there’. Thank you, Angélique. Also if you go here you will find an interview I did, answering questions about myself posed by writer and fellow Scot Fiona McVie. I have never felt so visible as I do right now! Please follow each link, and ‘like’ and comment liberally. Thank you.

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I

She settled where the woods buzz with a

thousand mirlitons, gourds, shells, roman

lamps with fingerholes pierced, sistrums

and tambourines, windharps, above the

local cloudline but on a day of light upon

soap-bubbles and spectrums on flywings

II

and the rattle of tracking stones, and she

sang the forest nakedness away with its

lunatick resurrection Come food! Come

forage! was her song, and it was attended

with madness; the following was decreed

in the city piazzas, S T O P : Y O U R :

III

W O U N D S : A N D : W A L K, but no

one knew by whom, why the monumental

face of it, all they knew was the whirl and

birl, tabletcovers birded, flew, the statues

sambaed, drunks spoke on phenomenology,

public clocks longstopped ticked in 5/4 and

IV

chimed in primes, digital displays randomised

haiku, ranters dumbed though some fluidised,

flushed like soft boys, some cried The Empress

has no clothes! others The Bull has no balls!

and both bore good and straight witness; we

wondered, some of us, whether there was a

V

quiet centre to it all where a god sipped a soda

and sat back, but to others that was a mean

consideration, all was up, a jubilee picnic,

cupcakes, cheesecake, a tablecloth cottoned

over everything, primavera leapfrog, dog

mornings, treepollen, tactile and harmonious

VI

Machinery; bellyup in the copse, where it all

Started she contemplated skyblue arcs, and

the crisscross or recalcitrant branches; Ho

hum, ho hum, it’ll all happen soon enough,

the time; 07:25; carousel; a kite fast on the

wires skittered its tail, inebriate on freedom

__________

jupiterThe counterlyricwise advance continues ©Marie Marshall

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©Marie Marshall

jupiter

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Counterlyricwise we march! ©Marie Marshall

jupiter

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A further advance counterlyricwise. ©Marie Marshall

jupiter

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Continuing the advance counterlyricwise. @Marie Marshall

jupiter

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A retreat from the lyric, but not so much a retreat, more an advance in a different direction – read the bare reverse of the sign! ©Marie Marshall

jupiter

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An elite is created when you try to convince ordinary people that they can’t handle something difficult; difficulty is everyone’s property and we hold it in common, delighting in the colours we make of it, helping each other to make a fist of it. ©Marie Marshall

__________

jupiterWhen you have finished reading the poem – for now – please also visit my short story ‘The Golden Casement’, one of a series of occasional fables.

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None of us see the same orbital, so what does this mean to you? And the next time? ©Marie Marshall

jupiter