Closer Then It constitutes the lastgasp of a wordless haiku—peeringthrough snow drift icicles ona zen photographer’s windowpane in bright alabaster winter islike watching stars melt inside theexpanse of a late period Rothko. Ground German glass piercesthe fog of memory spirits—eachrecalled and submitted for reviewbefore imminent trial and sentencing. Like the actor gazing througha cigar hazeContinue reading “Closer Then”
Tag Archives: #writers
Devices ‘n that
Devices ‘n that It seems faith has been renewedat the vape store this morning.All that concrete clutter and bigblue smoke has had it’s way with her. Aspect ratios and minoraffections of those left behindhave cut tracks on her forehead,but she is of another sprightly coil.Rear view mirrors have shownher these things tend toevaporate—settle into aContinue reading “Devices ‘n that”
As Is So Often the Case
As Is So Often the Case Units of centimorgansvie for attention with dailyword conundrums ridingshotgun—it’s become a focuspoint for staying the course.Holding onto that thoughtis the new shapeshifter now;an eternal blip in the present. So, how does that sound ?,she offers through the wires,not wanting to appear in anyway unhelpful—like thebated breath of magnifiedsilence insideContinue reading “As Is So Often the Case”
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
If I Could
If I Could(for Fran) It was so like youto slip in a curveballwatching a Disney flick,to ask me how I would come to youin dawn’s feeble light or deepdread of night to tell you againwhat you’ve always known & kissyour baby cheeks; when that wasthat—all she wrote was said & done. When the veils liftContinue reading “If I Could”
Knocking Off
Knocking Off There’s a daily air of I toldyou so that comes with everyshift—spacing out on the job overpotato chips and fake news. They even got their claws intomy fine tuned lyrics once,but they need perfect pitchto know the difference betweenbergamote and mandarin—notfine tooth combs for removingwax or dead cell plaquefrom static cotton wool lugs.Continue reading “Knocking Off”
Plucking Petals
Plucking Petals Tell us what time it iscalls out somebody in thecrowd, in between versesof summertime reimaginedin evening’s light at Newport. And lately isn’t everyonetrying to tell us what timeit is—tugging away at thenight shutters—droolingover glass with index fingeror smashing away at starswhile piping up with boththumbs in the comments. I’ve always known whattime itContinue reading “Plucking Petals”
Extracts from the Blue Notebook (with additional notes to self)
Extracts from the Blue Notebook(with additional notes to self) I like the Depardieu episode;what he says about grapesthat struggle in adverse soilconditions produce better wineis, in all likelihood, quite true.I mean, not that I would know.But the metaphor stuck with me.There’s an honesty about hiswork—it’s something in his eyes.He inhabits the characters emotions;there’s more toContinue reading “Extracts from the Blue Notebook (with additional notes to self)”
Her Cameo
Her Cameo Idling away the incessant hourshere at night can often feel likeJimmy Stewart in Rear Window;minus the key grips and gaffers. We make do these days withslimline hand devices and otherneuro diversions—time crawls onas light hues change unnoticed. It’s a slow pan with tight closeupshot before cutting away to theseduction scene—in privé à présent.Continue reading “Her Cameo”
Dreaming Volumes
Dreaming Volumes Hardy snorts the glacial air;finds morning’s first brew prosaic.Last night’s jottings petered out,leaving his middle ear in two minds. No good harping on with old hatsor yesterday’s retro headlines.Those flash new chaps with theirclever tunes make his eyes water. He storms out to the sycamorewith his latest missive &bellows at shit faced poets,Continue reading “Dreaming Volumes”
Visions of Orion Poetry 