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grumpy thumb Nov 2015
The wind's blustery paw mauled the night
rattling slack shutters and
shuddering corrugated roofs
like small change.
Sodden leaves congregated
in walled corner pockets,
praying for a last crack at dryness
and the playful kick and crunch of kids' feet.
Stray tomcat slunk
beneath
an s.u.v.
cowering at the naked trees
whose limbs fumbled drunkenly.
Not quite Munch's infinite scream,
but the closest thing I want to see
this night.
More of a nature snarling than scream
grumpy thumb Nov 2015
In a cafe sitting quite
wondering how tired
the waitress's smile is
as she shifts a slinky pivot
around tables
a routine on autopilot.
There's a tattoo shreak of violet
on her wrist.
Last night purged brightly from regretful mists:
Sprawl of limb
hinge and ******
flesh contorts
then erupts.
I read her script
she knew my score
rebound *** nothing more...
I think.
am sure.
...aint I?
grumpy thumb Nov 2015
Mellow the sea tide inching in
nibbling the shoreline
swishing kelp and swapping shells
stealing footprints
and time.

A lazy pen crawls the page
lapping gradually from margin's line
an inky gull's opportunist eye
scavenging the scene
with a rhyme.
grumpy thumb Nov 2015
Thick fog
muffling street lights,
confusing shadows,
smoothing edges.
Silent stretch of phantom arms,
damp embrace.
Smothering distance
veiled:
harsh city vanishes.
As wondrous as it is eerie.
****** into its vacume of nothingness.
Spellbound.
grumpy thumb Oct 2015
She never once asked why
I keep the twisted rosewood stick
or if it holds significance.
Or why Flann O'Brien's
"At swim two birds." has a place
by itself on the shelf.
She never understood my love
of jazz, metal or classical music
or wondered why
Hieronymus Bosch and Caravaggio prints
are in the hall.
She once said I should get rid of them all
"They don't match the décor."
She never understood the humour
of Leonard Cohen,
nor appreciate the raw beauty
of a Bukowski poem;
claimed they were just ***** old men.
She couldn't fathom why
I am drawn to decrepit ruins
or could spend hours just walking
without a destination.
She never will comprehend my love
for the ghostly hue of twilight.
now she never will
grumpy thumb Oct 2015
More cut up from what was given
than what was taken in her leaving.
There is no mistaken
all was possible
for a while we were unstoppable.
then pop went the bubble.
The hardest patch will always pass
once removed rose tinted glass
grumpy thumb Oct 2015
Strange! Never noticed it before
distance from bed to door
in footsteps one per word
paced from sole to soul
"It is over for good."
Each a precise dagger throw
expertly tossed in the dark
piercing deep hitting the mark.
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