Poems
by Terry Brinkman

 

 

Sleepy Whale 456

 

Gun-whale of her dad’s boat stuck in the mud last fall

Allowed his bowels to ease without compromising

Smelling fresh rag paper from Budapest

Still darkness in the brightness of the nurse

Shadow lay over her Purse

Bristles shining wirily infest

Her hat was left on the floor of the Hearse

 

 

 

 

 

Sleepy Whale 448

 

Ilk Horns Dragon Zodiac

Bluest Irish blue eyes Awe

She’ll be back with cash

Limp as a wet rag look on her face

Pollenate paraphernalia trash

Alabaster white gulden poop embrace

Cotton polis exceedingly rash

Her navels jest totty grace

 

 

 

 

 

Sleepy Whale 455

 

Eager anticipation rising

Solemnities ironical pitfall

Hymns to heavenly noisy drawl

Murmuring waters harmonizing

Unmentionables scrutinizing

Shadow less morning philosophical crawl

Her boat stuck in the mud last fall

She allowed his bowels to ease without compromising

 

 

 

 

 

Sleepy Whale 457

 

Sun was nearing the steeple and still rising

Lighting of the intellect’s pitfall

Soul’s shame wounded by our sins drawl

Midnight and augur’s rod of ash harmonizing

Shadow lay over the maid of the moon scrutinizing

Stench of foul flower water was compromising

Crossed legged smoking a coiled pipe in Budapest

 

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