Field Song In ravages of daylight,he tracks the orb’s declinetowards the arc of the Birch. Sun baked hours concedeto shadows–blisters crackwith open parched throat; a brittle earth churningbeneath his cortège–in stepwith hooves & gyrating ironwood. ©️ Orion Foote
Tag Archives: #subconscious
Codger’s Notebook
Codger’s Notebook Mid-morning Camellias pingunder a muted sundial –Codger notes their progress;his concertina file pregnant with earmarked outtakes. Afternoon chill factors hoveinto view on the horizon –their misty eyed vapours hint at surmised outcomes;all annotations are updated. Dead letters depart on cuetowards a vanishing point –time is beside itself, sunbathing at another empty juncture;all fodderContinue reading “Codger’s Notebook”
Dancing in Absentia
Dancing in Absentia Why isn’t it enough to speak the sordid truth, while a jealous moon steals our thunder – assumes the limelight in a twinkling mid-winter sky. Why isn’t it enough to dance a rabid Tango – cut a dash around words etched in snow, that rise like a chorus from a well ofContinue reading “Dancing in Absentia”
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”
Almost True
Almost True Your words throw gravitasacross silent winter skies;peeping through dusty shadesof lavender cloudsas if ripe for translation.We have all met beforebut we just don’t know it. These things will remain;compress & distortthrough a corrosive eyeuntil understood by all. And isn’t it also true,that the tracks I leaveare processed by memory;that I am hereyet seemContinue reading “Almost True”
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”
Book of Hours
Book of Hours For an infinite secondthere are two of her; a bathing suited twinhovers over shifting rippleslike a saucy double exposure. Bullets of light shoot holesthrough skin—piercing herdoppelgänger in lunch hours blaze. The watery canvas dissolves;waves distort her gapingmouth – threaten to devourmy parched eyeballs. ©️Orion Foote, 2023
On One’s Arrival
On One’s Arrival No doubt you seem bug eyedas you wash ashoretowards starched sentinelsof five borough hives. Your hopeful flesh cutsthick air in quick stridesover silent ones below,who dream through another lensin the full light of dark and who cannot see us. Trundling forward with hopecarved from brownstone rock;your eyes swallowed wholelike the hours inContinue reading “On One’s Arrival”
Remixing the Outtakes
Remixing the Outtakes It was like turning the houseupside down – rifling throughthe lost & found in searchof optic enhancements, only to findthem lounging on my forehead;propping up the frontal lobessinging I told you so through a mic. I had forgotten how to rollwith shadows; like a shot southpawwith retinal failure – his sinister handstabbingContinue reading “Remixing the Outtakes”
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
Visions of Orion Poetry 