i guess i should;
walk a dog
paint a house
read the word
**** time
come to terms
know myself
listen well
go to the movies
take a walk
save a life
change the world
call the press
build a chair
watch for crooks
learn italian
take a bath
cook a meal
shoot a bird
drive to work
dance with soul
sing with heart
feel with both
live without
die instead
make amends
tell the world
be at one
free.

heartbreak
parallel to eye
without razor

sobbing

wet leaves
pressed in
a book
will not
dry

next

tears
do not
outlive
themselves

discovery

for another
generation

still

when in doubt
quote rimbaud
no verbs
no more

choosing the vowel “o”

that
i’m not
going to
remember
again

Narcosis wafts on the air
Pollinating the senses
Spreading dust on the years
Softening corners and edges
Disguising shapes
Until there is no point anymore
Nothing clear to be seen
But something pierced the skin

Wrecked witless and reckless
I have walked here all my days
In this land of rant and cant
Home of the brave and me
And I, the sentimental fool
Would keep the dream alive
Of gentle Wodehouse summers
And a myth of Christmas snow
Victorian values

Daylight is brighter here
So bright it laughs for joy
Dapple-dancing and doting
With no thought of cloud or rain
Not one word of unpleasant truth
No hint of hypocrisy
Here in Narcosis England
Everything is fine

                            By Phil Roberts

her eyes, lit like candles

now a distant phosphorescence

a poignant tug, her shade

but a smile of such weight

and warm, radiant presence

firmly we cling

to such small hands

and of bigger things would her soft, sweet voice sing.

cemeteries worn
delicately fall on chests

like grandmother's old necklaces

and inscriptions from headstones
draped in cold bronze

bought and sold, their epitaphs

like grandmother's old word

her lovely verbs

swathed in gold,

and ever were costly rhinestones weaved in

until every meaning to her lovely words were lost.