After Ritsos by Geraldine McKenzie

1. The violin cannot support its weeping mouth.
2. Interrogated by turnstiles, stumbling into panic.
3. The lighthouse is no longer orange.
4. The search is the meaning. Qualify this.
5. The mirror rejoices in its solitude.
6. Angerís a fine tongue. I can say what I want now.
7. Living in an apple tree, children around my legs.
8. Donít name it.
9. The harp and spoon, the third wish.
10. Duly rumbled and sporting a foolish grin.
11. Not far off, currawongs.
12. Allow the hand its freedom, see how it grows into fingers, each distinctly moving.
13. Tales for the ferryman who keeps his ears open.
14. The peachtreeís accidental window.
15. A poem using the word salamander.
16. I have edges, I go so far, then stop.
17. The final snake has found its space. Let the pipes begin.
18. To wander well and widely try what pass and hold in compass.
19. Andromeda waiting for whatever would come. She conceals her apron beneath the boulder.
20. A claw scuttling the corridors, punch-drunk but looking for a fight.
21. Waiting by the highway, white cockatoos in a grey sky.
22. The lounge, the table, the chairs, hatching conspiracies.
23. Evening, we listen.
24. The comedian can find no place for his bowler hat.
25. A small fish. A silver fork. The moon.
26. Hard slog down trodden more up ahead.
27. Swallows twisting in the stairwells.
28. Meadowbright, maystrife, newly swelled, a definite itch.
29. A possum ambling over a red rug as I look up from typing.
30. Slick idol, I ken your parts and pronto.
31. You want a subject? Iíll give you a subject.
32. On the Sapphire Coast, by the Indigo Mountains, we bank our beauty in words.
33. She stops her ears with a silence of long corridors.
34. Eloquent before the trees, he shapes a sidled glow.
35. A sentence with teeth and a digestive system. A sentence with all organs intact. Go on.
36. Gracious levity enthralling the fractious ghosts.
37. Up to my neck in it.
38. Enter my jungle, swim down my warm rivers. Iíll be waiting.
39. The snake whistle of poured wheat. Billow the drift.
40. The brackenís deep as water. I sit and watch blue fish as they wink past.
41. Dank curdle and grave, adagio.
42. How far does it reach, the pondered tide of feeling?
43. The mesh of greenness, the net and freedom.
44. Freed from discourse, the flamingos flow like silk over mirrors.
45. Wattle fretted by an August wind, arriving with heat and shadows.
46. Wet unfolding wings, the bugle opens to a desert sun.
47. Angels emerging from clocks, the piano applauds.
48. My hand at night, pushing shadow across the page, words following.
49. Cats! The place is full of them.
50. An eagle seeming to follow our car down into the valley. Who can ignore such clear signs?
51. She combs the spiders from her hair.
52. Flout the hard master. Dodge him in the circuits.
53. Will you be wine and easy drunk.
54. Iíll eat this mango slowly.
55. The nails, joints, knuckles, bones, pads, creases, lines, scars, the triangle on my right palm forming on the left.
56. In the playground they bully the fat boy.
57. Teeth and whiskers, you donít fool me.
58. Crimson coat on a wooden chair. Visceral elegance of poised thighs. Oh Chatterton!
59. Paltering, fetch, a heady steam.
60. She swipes veils in passing from airborne circuses.
61. Tangled into plumage and my delicate feet.
62. You canít do it.
63. Apples to a lark. Here comes the crunch.
64. When I left the city, I was ready to turn my hand to anything.
65. Clever moon, spun down and dandy.
66. My hand. My fault. My good intentions.
67. A green lily, single among voluminous leaves.
68. Shoes are not easily stacked. Always, some little adjustment.
69. The undisputed testament of flowers dyeing bright pale stone.
70. Mist rising from the hedges, a tractor idling in the field.
71. A regrettable failure and all concerned taking immediate steps to affect their distance from events.
72. The Dance of the Black Umbrellas.
73. Lilac so still but breath enough to draw me in. I head upstream.
74. Efficacious regalia, your quaint and torrid zone.
75. You paint women but youíre thinking peached ó white fleshed with that faint stippled red where the seed comes away.
76. Pulling an armadillo from his pocket, he begins to play.
77. The priest cannot grow wings.
78. A dark-haired woman leaning out to close the window. I call to her for the pleasure of watching her pause.
79. As though the artist spilt his pot of bright blue paint.
80. The haughty thighs of the miracle. He reckons sheíd go like the clappers.
81. Of space, so light. So it goes.
82. The Garden of Indulged Nostalgia. The Garden of Notorious Epiphany. The Garden of Perverse Depredation.
83. Horde the beaten mustnít grumble polity knackered. Falls due.
84. Oblivious rose. May I?
85. Wisdom, seeming like a sacrifice.
86. The boys are afraid they will never know what they are worth.
87. Sebastian claiming arrows, bled to true.
88. We fill our cities with light. Call to each other from tall buildings.
89. The closed room. The stealthy room. The room seldom visited.
90. I place that slice of melon on the wet sand.

Issue Five

Editorial: Sulfir R.I.P.

Sulfur & After

Geraldine McKenzie

Michael Anania

C.S. Giscombe

John Latta

Susan Sink

D.C. Berry

Reviews of: C. S. Giscombe

Reviews of: John Matthias

And: The Word From Russia

Samizdat Magazine, © 2000-2001 R. Archambeau

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