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”

 

 

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