Street Corner Scribes My psycho geographic beathooks me up with street angels.Icons of the literati’s inner sanctum,such as Shakespeare Walkor Bronte Street dot the city’s heartbeat.They wave at me in hi-viz chalk whitecharacters—pointing this way & that like cryptic runes on traffic point duty. At mornings low tide, I wait for ghost writers & theirContinue reading “Street Corner Scribes”
Tag Archives: #writing
Incoming
Incoming I return to thisplace on the cuspof a pitch perfectsegue into summer,swiping at echo loopswith a net in thismorning’s velvet light;poised & ready to swoop on sudoku beatsat the snap of a twig. ©️Orion Foote
Dinner with Sebald
Dinner with Sebald Rapid eye gymnasticsin deep focus cut toa table setting; belowspiky palm silhouettesnear a Key West shoreline. I’m picking at Bavarianbrain cells over calamariwith lashings of tartare& lemon. Knocking backa bright Rosado as he waxes of post war hangovers jostling with a yacht rock soundtrack. Moon coloured foamseethes under a Nor’Westerly breeze surfingContinue reading “Dinner with Sebald”
Plainsong on Black Keys
Plainsong on Black Keys In mornings feeble tones,the belligerent lighthouseplays hide & seek withlilac bushels of cloud fluff.Barbie pink petals falllike day-glo showersover a sea green sedan.A furtive semi brève crawls through the gapof the drivers window.It hovers like a tuningfork, turning overin mid song, as I chipaway at soft moundsof snow – pushing silentlyagainstContinue reading “Plainsong on Black Keys”
Are You Now, or Have You Ever Been (for Geoff)
Are You Now, or Have You Ever Been It might have been inone of those three syllablemonths – the ones with a decisivestress point smack in themiddle; the hopeful quartetthat arrive towards thelatter part of the year,announcing the onsetof milder days and lesstroubled thoughts. It was more a minimalistHaiku collaboration thanan empty exchange of words.YouContinue reading “Are You Now, or Have You Ever Been (for Geoff)”
Branford Park, Just Quietly
Branford Park, Just Quietly Small clusters of Daisiesshimmy and quiver alongthe embankment this morning. Summer tides have madetheir early return, cutting a swathethrough the valley’s epicentre, where bird chatter makes itshalf hearted attempt at smalltalk with zesty oak leaves rippling in the coolof morning’s tepid breeze.Each blade of grass will begin it’s parched transition fromevergreenContinue reading “Branford Park, Just Quietly”
Encryptions
Encryptions If only I could recordthe inner workings at nightin 4K pristine transfer—microchips working sensory overtime,burning disc to disc inshimmers of HD excellence. The nights carry stacks ofneuro abstraction data ripefor the picking—teemingwith oddly familiar facesthat still retain their senseof uncertainty; where youthfulsensations and heightenednerves stand at glass doors withwhite doves and jackhammers. ©️Orion Foote,Continue reading “Encryptions”
Blues from Surrey
Blues from Surrey It’s a refinement ofaural linguistics with a hint of chicanery.Think torso extensions—aflagrant third arm swoopswith meta particles runningthe fusion ecstasy gamut.Blades of metal tearat delirium, as the grin widens behind aviator shades.It’s microtonal chaos, deliveredlike pointillist warfare atmurmuring heartbeats;he spits cascades of brainmatter over diamond dust. ©️Orion Foote, 2022
Closer Then
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”
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”
Visions of Orion Poetry 