Poems
by Terry
Brinkman
Sea Cold
Sue Gruff escapes my Christmas Party briskly on horseback
Her gemmed fingers holds tightly to my best wine mug
She was left with only one options Pumpkin pie under her hat
Such a Ghost Woman’s Star motley sludge
Honey and bread in the joust of life
Her old folly’s sea cold tearless eyes as we kiss
Brief finger gesture too okay my advance
Over her right shoulder and army green World War II Bag
Between thick her thick plotting maladroit hair an Ivory comb
Under her silk skirt green jogging shorts
Down the Street
This old mans, sea cold stare as he watches Old Saint Nick
Her riding a pink Sea- Horse an escaped elf
She’s putter perfect with jockeyed Annie over a Pine Pint
Ghost woman ay under his minds-eye
Not a weak outcast woman
Old Hag and Young gossoon to marry Christmas at noon
Blue dust moon shadow of a Sled and Eight Reindeer
Including Gods good for everything or nothing
Sloppy Eyed poker playing Annie limp opening her fireside sock
MAGNA
Jack Priest prays guitar at Wendover’s Christmas Parade
Mahamanuatara wearing his snot green shirt
Speaks he exhales fetid cocoa breath
Maze of chairs to dark to find a seat sat on the floor
Slightly open Chalk-Scrawled front door all to enter
His cayenne pigeon house after Christmas Mass for Coffee
Elko Steersmen always drinking Irish coffee at the Christmas Parade
Priest Crucified shirt’s hanging on his Nobel Pine Christmas Tree
