Poems
by Terry
Brinkman
Corpse Rising
Unwashed and Uncooked offence
Corpse rising salt-white at a slow speed
Like holding water in your hand thence
Singing alone in the sleeping’s need
Lost in maze of dark hard to find
Mananmanuatand diphthong slow
Unmentionables on drying line blowing in the wind
I have not won in six days, you know
Bonesetters Saruman
Eager anticipation of everything to come
Spiritual conditional of man’s defects
Solemailtes a slightly ironical son
Bonesetters Saruman days will pass
Walking at Cock’s crow with the sun in my eye
Galt to antecedent java still was
Gamble a crosswalk traverse was gravely
Lonely silence
Dishonors of their flesh defect
Unghastly friendliness large lidded eyes fair
Word of God authentic suspect
Mottle affairs of Salt Lake City’s air
Last swig of the Chalcis approved
Lonely silence of the day, my writing time
Stormed tossed hearts of man’s love
Gun Whale
From the gun whale of a boat, view
Solemnities a slightly ironical mend
Souls beheld in Violet night rue
A burr sticking in a horse’s mane commend
Jabber hand maid of the moon crowned
Our soul’s shame wounded by our own
Hymns to heavenly beauty confound
Eagar anticipation of everything shown
Deathless Gods
Mercy of God’s great brightness we’ve seen
Lady Chapel maze of dark true
Alabaster ghost woman’s silk stockings in green
Crucified skirt, yesterday was new
Deathless Gods Bisect tin store
Spiritual conditional of man’s your
Islamic of saints and Sages head
Weak wasting hand confessional day
Jack and Jim
Jack and Jim met at the pub with Tim
To drink a pint or two
Gray hair Mormon Paul was there
And said “shame on you”
