#memories – Visions of Orion Poetry

Baxter at St Johns

Baxter at St John’s How you fill the armchair:neck & shoulders tilted backwith eyelids falling south;dreaming with every starbeyond our penitent dome. Once drunkard – now poet’s Christ:mouth turned from bitter sponge –how time trembles when voicesshatter the glass night –our words crackling over ice. ©️ Orion Foote

A Child’s Winter Show

A Child’s Winter Show Your voice receded like the sun – it fellbehind shadowed hillswith winter’s deft touch. The hours came – left usas slow as slow could be,drifting over blue dodgems and fever pitched furore. I wanted to reach upwith frozen hands, pullthe sunglasses from your eyesand watch the rain crying over toffee apples.Continue reading “A Child’s Winter Show”

Soloman Islands Song

Soloman Islands Song(four Chinese Quatrains) He sleeps in humid daylightover scorched Pacific sand;distant flags ripple slowlyin Vella Lavella breeze A sentinel moon whispersdream long my son of silence;offspring of a lost wind manscribbles tears in candlelight sotto voce words linger,taut hours unravel in sheetsof slant drizzle – heightens tangof shaving foam and sherry Croons withContinue reading “Soloman Islands Song”

Winter Swing

Winter Swing In this house & on this street,I heard you once;strumming bespoke chordsthrough an open sash window.They hung like snowflakesin the timid light,fell through black holeswith a handful of stars— in search of a cadencethat would ring true. And nocturnal showersthrew down in sympathy,had a damn good howlas I carried the tune,entertained it–unpacked itbarContinue reading “Winter Swing”

Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa You speak as if to remember;as if wondering how words escapethrough tiny cracks – I track themdown and revel in the thought. And what of the light switchthat is somehow jammed;neither off nor on, but stuckunwittingly in-between, picking fights with the fuse box. That is how these things are.This is how I learnContinue reading “Tabula Rasa”

Your Song Is My Song

Your Song is My Song It’s a wrap at the Chinatownshindig – they’re painting starsabove Beaumont Highway tonightwith high-viz neon sparks. It’s all light frou-frouswith laughing gas & smoke,embroidering the black shroudwith on the fly calligraphy. Between narrow slitsof a wooden shack,a lambs eye is squinting through celestial vapours.Stupefied by black tarand brandy, a manContinue reading “Your Song Is My Song”

Flying Home

Flying Home We’re leaving this place;these kaleidoscope nights that burn in loud neonabove Times Square after dusk. Time can blur the lines,like hearts & fleshthat yearn for ways throughthe blare of yellow taxis;through a maze of noise,groping alone in the darkfor each other. Frazzled by waking hours,dragging feet with humidthoughts down broad avenues;our silence reverberatingContinue reading “Flying Home”

Newton’s Epilogue

Newton’s Epilogue(In Memorium) Once, on a cold inclinenamed after your mother,you turned as if Karajan to his Figaro;as if Jesus to Simon and saidTo conquer death,we only have to die. At the drop of a baton,time holds sway like a dirge,wincing at the refrainof it’s own untold forecast;we only have to die. And what ofContinue reading “Newton’s Epilogue”

Sundays

Sundays Dusty cream wirelesspours Mancini staticthrough piping valves. Sizzled lamb beckonsfrom warm plates withsharp bite of mint saucefrom Staffordshire boat. His enlarged irisesbeam down onSunday pages—thinksI wouldn’t knowwhat day it was. ©️Orion Foote, 2022

Gung Ho at The Zeitgeist

Gung Ho at The Zeitgeist I like the photo that you flunglike an aerodynamic frisbeethrough the glow of cyber electrons.It screams of Ultravox and wildgypsophila in Grantchester Meadows. Kids careening drunk through streetlit metal roads, howling like rabid dogslost in the brain fog of a 2am deadzone, after shooting our lot over tablesdoused in fireContinue reading “Gung Ho at The Zeitgeist”