Thursday, February 28, 2013

When we happened to wind up


When we happened to wind up
In Grass Valley
How could anyone believe
Old hippies at that point
In time

The grass was brown in July
Though there was still some gold
In the children pooling downstream
From their father's weed
And in the Yuba's
Magic pan












Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

Such a narcissist


Such a narcissist
Leave from my window
With all your sacred enemies
Loyal

The prie-dieu
Arranged backwards
Tips the balance
Toward the profane

The guttered wash
Of gargoyles
Spares the sweeper
Worry

This city is shining
Under its hill
Emptied of all
Worship









Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Rick drove a beater Chevy


Rick drove a beater Chevy
Handed down by a father
Absent to luxury and
Progress

He used to gun it
Over the failing grade
Almost in hopes of
Bottoming out

His huffing chance
To rehab the body
Was clouded in
Critical aerosols

Once the final coat was sprayed
Close in his mother's garage
That one too many
Marlboro, man,
Lit up the joint like
A nova







Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

You get on my nerves




You get on my nerves
To know endings
And nothing becomes
A nuisance
More than a second
Becoming
Only to mete
It's tale







Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

These once tightly dressed walls




These once tightly dressed walls
Slavish to randy squires
Now sprawl in splitting, open
Braced by their mansion mid-wife
To cradle the rock for coping
Obsolete stiles
Out of the wild carrots' reach

















Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

What is improperly dependent


What is improperly dependent
A barrow read can't displace
God's half-acre
Simply waiting
On it's maker

A jar transported
From a Tennessee hill
Won't retain its slip
From the underworld

These infernal chains clank
Loudest in the sun
When polished for inspection
While the cave awaits
Its molten core
Home to rest
Vertical laughter





Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

There are no more subjects to speak of




There are no more subjects to speak of
Although chalk may turn to slate
In an attempt to translate
What the clam and the mud
Hopelessly stuck
Can't relate

Monday, February 25, 2013

Don't be fancy with me




Don't be fancy with me
I'm not impressed upon a seal
Fashioned for judging virtue

I'm not waiting on any message
Other than your eyes
Unlined by stationary scripture

I wouldn't test your will
To please a perfect mirror
The other side of want
Exposes your singular 
Given






Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

Who is left when all are present


Who is left when all are present
Pushed up against an embankment
And executed for a crowd
Composed of slumping figures
Paying with their lives
To save a place
For showing up












Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

This is a slanted emergency


This is a slanted emergency
Its gravity builds from left to right
An hour skewed for stretchers
Losing heavy minutes

Once the gut starts growling
In wait for a solid meal
The ductile shapes of longing
Shingle for subsistence

Shacked in such a latitude
In angled, dirty weather
An occupant's distraction
Depends upon their leaning








Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013