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 Sep 2020 MicMag
A Mess of Words
Summer slipped out sometime after midnight;

Left the door open wide.

I couldn’t convince her to stay

No matter how I tried.

Autumn arrives in elegance:

Her own offerings of intimacy;

But my skin still tingles from Summer’s bite,

And all the pleasures she gave to me.
A work in progress
 Sep 2020 MicMag
 Sep 2020 MicMag
There is this taste
that I can’t rinse, spit
or rid myself of lately
and it’s not the kind
left behind by a dentist
yanking a wisdom tooth
out or the ****** mouth
from an eighth grade
playground go around
or bad blood in the hood
but something more
like a fight for a life bored
to the bone and hung
out to dry in the sun
having to bite my tongue
on the curse of the irony
of it all that I find too
hard and bitter to swallow.
 Sep 2020 MicMag
Donall Dempsey

"The legs have come back! '
the eyes shouted

swimming around in
the goldfish bowl.

My mouth
remained tight-lipped

upon the perch

in the budgie's cage**!

And indeed
the legs

who had taken themselves off
and gone for a walk

around about midnight
on their own

had returned
(without any explanation)    

of where they had been
or with whom.

They had scratches
about the knees

& a telephone number
(written in Biro)    

on the left inner

I tried
to pull myself

'**** the demon
drink! '

I thought slurrrrridly
before passing out.

a...gain! '

But I was in bits
couldn't get a grip


My brain had gone
riding the lift

up 'n' down
up 'n' down

all night

with one of my arms.

The other arm
was asleep.
That's the last ****** time I take Charles'( hic...)sick advice. I was all over the place and my body just couldn't pull itself together
Charles Baudelaire
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
 Sep 2020 MicMag
Caleb John
You whispered

And the Stars came into existence

It's beautiful
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