seeing/saying

Monday, September 30, 2013

Just there

Just there
Behind the times
You will find
Another shelf
Dust waiting
To be emptied

Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

Sunday, September 29, 2013

She took apart

Those holes

Of silver grey

And blood red

Then she removed

A leaf

A fig meant

Of her imagination

There to mask

A flower

Trellising a field

Of girls

Anxious to be

Made

Tom McGlynn

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Tony said

Here we are

No through way

To frame

I don't think

There is any
More in Jersey

6x6x6

Will get your

Die

Hoping for grace

And a cigarette

Before a bottle

Of smoke

Tom McGlynn

Mama we were

All crazy

Then

We heeled

To the toe

And belted back

We crost

The line

A cold fresh

Hold

A widdle

Wie

A runaway

Slavish

Poking

A nose

Whern it

Dunt be

Long

Tom McGlynn

Beneath this street

Beneath this street Name a way Now sleeps Above was a way Once dreamed In what night Did the city Creep away In what day Will it whistle Again to work

Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013

What strung

The stronger

In pair of dice

A daily dread

The stalk of life

A pilgrim stealth

A basket of corn

A covenant made

A native war

The dragging for chains

A splinted house

The breadline sigh

An electrified farm

A darkest hour

The arsenal shipped

The greatest fire

A pattern of lawns

The time in country

A desert of storms

The parsing of words

A bubble burst

A volume destroyed

The lie of turf

A tragic link

What strung

The stronger

In pair of dice

Tom McGlynn

Friday, September 27, 2013

As I see life

As I seek

Your face

As I forget

My owning

Of death

A giddy long

Chasm

Is wedged

Between

As a solid stare

An emptied weigh.

Tom McGlynn

It's impossible

To gauge

Most often

A winding

Is wasted

Toggles

Can be

Set

These are left

By another

Party

How does the air

Get so thin

Tom McGlynn

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Why stand an immortal

Shining stone

In the sucking mire

There is no footing there

But slippery hope

And closing shells

As if entrenched

Than leave

An angry defile

Left for red

It's such

A freshet made

Of fruits of spleen

And refugee bushels

Of bitter myrrh

Garnered

For ribbons

Of carrion

Crowed

Yea though you

Walk to

The valley

Of life

No good

Will evilly

To make

It real

Is not

A war

Tom McGlynn

Name calling

An index

That human

Kindness

Thing

Void

Of character

Traits

The milk

Of which

A mite

Relates

On terms of

Endearment

Riding

Inflected

In a host

Off face

Tom McGlynn