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Edmond Rohrer Feb 2014
And walking down the line,
And walking down the line,
Blood hot to fuel the limbs a-crying,
Struck not for rhythm, only rhyme,
Best for sighing
And dying in retreat.

And in my chest of pine,
A map rolled up so thin,
Drawn wit with all the twists of time,
Stray shores lit up by ocean-shine,
Uniquely won,
But smudged with soot.

Clouds from the soil – a sign!
This little mist of mine,
Will yearn to chuck its static tine
Among the tatters and the lint
That settled in my chest of pine,
a boneyard relic dank and bare
which homely cries
A ravaged syncopation twice.

And veering from the line,
And steering from my way,
A day or two to stay away
From bays of beasts and feasts of lice

and many a morsel,
lost to vermin that squirm
and grow and bite my
leg bleeds green;

Known to knaves that
waved grave flails and scattered ****,
that ****** its own to Hell,
where overdue a longish spell sent
Falling from place to grace
that face that drew a thousand beads of
albatross tears, of murky reeds
and cheating, stinking, reeking,
absolute, terrible,
miserable,
mistakes

Fall in line!

And burps another Rhine,
Boiled quaint in bogs of brine,
That pickles crisp the limp old rind
Of cogs and bands my chests of pine,
Buckskin drying all the time,
******* coke, doing lines,
tonguing chic,
pearly swine,
concede a side
I’ll never find.
Edmond Rohrer Jan 2014
Paraphrasing:

Oxygen feedback don’t
provoke me;
I relieve
all the need
plasticized lips to a
nail gun at
your forebrain
steal yourself a jacket;
don’t **** around
my home
when the freeze
follows every
sinkhole step
your fat toes

fall away

Let me de-muck
that nonsense:

Met a gal,
I did
name was Hannah,
spat mucosal ****
between my duck feet
And my tasseled spine
H   e av  e  d, hu rrr led at
T   he s i   g  ht o     f
M  y   s ki n

But I cracked and ground
my molars and I
gobbled that aching
dejection & snickering
and commanded she

****!

vanish
so it was

OK

for **** near three seconds
three
two
one

till she re-arrived
and rebuked a gull’s shade
for looking too much like
me and I
loved
her

now and
again and
three second
place trophies ago
she brushed me first

with that formidable
brilliance
a third of what
that beauty,

****!

that body
was gifted with
poison
that leeched
through palms
to my nerves

them bones

and out again
Edmond Rohrer Jan 2014
god stores sunshine
in blue skies
even the sun gets
pinkeye

and the sea
she yawns
we call it
the seabreeze
that leaves know
the trees breathe

there's more to you -
but what I see
evaporates
Edmond Rohrer Jan 2014
loitering in German is repulsive
always inebriated, even –
understand?

repetition and throat plug
pronouns (she gags on “du”
bleats “mein”)
exotic?  nah.  adored?

well

they tell me “das Gift” peals a
heavy cognate; it also
answers to “poison”

but Gifts in King’s
is “toxic” not
sorry
are – not – toxic

so flash me that
yellowbird
lather, anchor in strand

these quicksilver
nothings, murmured
honeydew venom


overheard myself last night
calling du but your scent
killed by mein pulse
almost fooled me, nearly

sounded like
the antidote
and other delicious gifts
you’ve given me

— The End —