They all agreed. A kite was he -lter-skelter, was hedonistic, a blunderbuss, thats what you need, they all agreed. Northern summer light air, cliffs, common yearning, and a piece of string to hold onto When all else fails. a file; some nails; a nail-file; a turnstile; a man. For all seasons. Really? A kite was flying above the beach on Gaza A guest of a few days knew about dowelling and brown paper knew about the secret life of string and labyrinths that theory of multiple dimensions the right time and place to let go of the thread did string theory put to test for brains connected each brain in flight in this vast ever expanding spacetime Moving out beyond the border guards of the night time theme parks. Nestling our heads in the armpits of cacti, we hold the heartbeat of the gila monster, know we could murder over the border for raw tequila and a Mexican named Sheena if over the border they hadn’t murdered her first, on their way to our markets and their fortunes where they would fondle our caricatures like blank slates in the evening heavy And when the vision ended, when he stopped flying, his stillness held virtue and menace, both afraid of which would rule the sand-lit sky icypole sticks and clag and parts of a cardboard box a soggy spine there was no sticky tape left there's one for the Kite Orphanage, I said placing green feathers, plus some milk money in my handbag
31.1: POST-EPIC
Released 1 December 2009 - 1 August 2010Index of Poems
Editor/ Producer: David Prater
Each of the poems in this issue starts with a line from a poem in EPIC. All lines are in fact comments that were added by readers. Scroll down each page to find out who wrote what! Or read the post-epic post-mortem.
-lter-skelter, was hedonistic, a blunderbuss, thats what you need, they all agreed.
Northern summer light
air, cliffs, common yearning, and a piece of string to hold onto
When all else fails. a file; some nails; a nail-file; a turnstile; a man. For all seasons.
A guest of a few days
Really? A kite was flying above the beach on Gaza
knew about dowelling and brown paper
knew about the secret life of string
and labyrinths
that theory of multiple dimensions
the right time and place to let go of the thread
did string theory put to test for brains connected
each brain in flight in this vast ever expanding spacetime
Moving out beyond the border guards of the night time theme parks.
Nestling our heads in the armpits of cacti, we
hold the heartbeat of the gila monster, know we could murder over the border for raw tequila and a Mexican named Sheena
if over the border they hadn't murdered her first, on their way to our markets and their fortunes
where they would fondle our caricatures like blank slates in the evening heavy
And when the vision ended, when he stopped flying, his stillness held virtue and menace, both
afraid of which would rule the sand-lit sky
icypole sticks and clag and parts of a cardboard box
a soggy spine
there was no sticky tape left
there's one for the Kite Orphanage, I said
placing green feathers, plus some milk money in my handbag