Tuesday, April 07, 2020

Tuesday poem #366 : David Groulx : Looking at a shallow mistle thrush


Nothing is issued
and the ladies go blah
delicate and fierce
boom boom ah
a decision of
a hand of illusion
can't be free
got a hard on for home
and I can hear myself speak
great Britannia
come up the stage
and glow
an old back of a
shallow fish
a skeleton maze
the evening gestured like this
a heap to shove off
there nothing but wine
the weather here is
gettin a rain
and disappear from here
a kiss goodbye Gemini
must go like that
after awhile
see you waking after awhile
a decision of the dawn
to sop up what's left
of the darkness
but that's just here
looking at a choke
the stage that floats
and everything is old
my mania misplayed


Come and get this fire
I'll get you high
I'm just a little blue
a tired colour of my horn
the boots, the eye, and the avenue
sometimes, Lady I think of the night
making love, making ready
to leave
the phone rings, the smoke
the heel taps away and the moonlight
makes words
coming through
up to my shoulder
I froze
I was lame
another heart shines on
let me leave hungry
open another bottle of seems to be
and explanations
Miss Tabytha fly
you figure, you stumble
the horses will come
when you say please
please Miss Tabytha
every Sunday
apparently still
hand travelling
just to be alive


You wore my horn somewhere
I think I heard a train
in the mountains
there was laughter and a blade blond
and the love of footsteps
that we couldn't come up for air
I held it all in
like a man will always hold love
with both hands
My roads to you
became my favourite
but I gotta go around
just to get there
it was a scree
you and I
and the tombs we carried
I doubted the venom
but the venom did not doubt me
now I'm going there
my favourite roads
but I gotta go around


I was to become ablated
brought down to my muss
and I was almost
broken in two and nothing tasted good
does she ever low
something bubbles from her mouth
and I ain't sure why
anything just wearing on
and the goats are gone
I wait
and a crippled memory
comes back like a hand
feeling its way around in the dark
a blind
a kink
a trip down a crooked bone
I can hardly see
winding my way
just pigeon past
a sweet key
and its been so long
since we crumbled
like frozen snow
in the rain
my your way to me again
I'm shining
especially you
like half hand of a steed
hurry to me


I got my body pressed against
another get away
got the wind in my hand again
leaving this dirty bastard town again
helplessly I'm pulled from
your blah blah blah
just get to the hoar-ra
in the front of you when you zoom bye
goin on the Z train
the starlight moves
all light moves
there is nothing that can turn me off
about anything I can get out of this
they line up everything
the sunshine keeps moving
the ooze are ahhhs
and a rustle at my feet

David Groulx was raised in Ontario, Canada. He is proud of his aboriginal roots, Anishnabe and French Canadian.
He won the 3rd annual Poetry NOW Battle of the Bards.

He has published 11 books of poetry.

His book, The Wabigoon River Poems was nominated for the Archibald Lampman award in 2015.

Was the Writer-in-Residence for openbook.com Toronto for November 2012.

His poetry has been translated into French, Ojibwa and Cree languages.

Red River Review nominated his poetry for the Pushcart Prize in 2012.
One Throne Magazine nominated his poetry for the National Magazine Awards in 2014.

His poetry has appeared in over a 190 magazines in 15 countries.

The Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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