Monthly Archives: March 2009

THE ADDLED ATTIC

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What vermin lie molting
in recessed corners; layered,

aging cloth, rusty sabres?

Doors unlock to parade
apparitions thought dead-dust.

Howling persists behind locked doors;
awaiting  that day the dead-bolt lives.

How many more doors?

How many piles? Fleeting faces of phallic
frenzy; faded visages brandishing shame?

How many awakenings?

The past lives through a rear-view mirror.


Alice Parris

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THAT WHICH DENIES ME WINGS

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Loose coats,

Bent hangers,

Messy closets.

Papers…

Notices-unnoticed.

Black & white

Snapshot

Within my head.

I tried hanging

My hat upon

Hooks made

From words

That failed me;

Unable to

Hold the weight

Of the contents

Within my

De-structuring mind.

I hate ceilings,

doors  and walls.

I hate confinement;

Sky-blue

Glass limitations.

I am outraged

To be bound

By time,

Place and penury.

I aspire to ascend

Beyond the level of

These  intrusive villains;

Above that which

Denies me wings.

 

Alice Parris

ALICE’S NIGHTSONG

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ALICE’S NIGHTSONG

Invisible birds chirp at night. Trains which passed by in 1877 re-established
their schedules. Cruise ships leave from land-locked terrain, blowing their
 
distant foghorns. Nightsong is always played in doleful notes before dawn.

I wanted to leave violet snapdragons. Sprays of vibrant profusion in my wake;
blood-red roses with thorns that prick, wound as a reminder that life is never
 
a given. Once it is given , it is to be lived well.

At high noon the sun was darkened for a showdown. The hombre in his
perennial black hat was gunning for me. I didn’t strap-up. The air was crisp.

Barely-there snow flakes floated, bells fell silent with deafening clarity.

They will carry me away in an unmarked box. Cursory grief will grave-
gallop. My ashes will cyclone, then, settle upon wafts of waiting wind.

Buttercup-yellow fields, emerald-green grasses await my passage. I will
make my winding way down to the river’s edge.. My going home will be

sweeter than the smell of a freshly-powdered newborn’s bottom.

 
Alice Parris