Anony – Mouse ( party animal )

Light and shape

 

lost on the fringes of a tumult

the hot air rising as a shroud

above contagion

this party is a swarm that I apparently

am-a-part-of

though that ( my imaginary friend )

is problematic because

though I am invisible my head is telling me quite the reverse

that I throb amongst them  –  a lighthouse

intermittently spraying light upon their gathering

inviting comments yet somehow repelling them too

I am anti-matter

words drown in me as I suck at pleasantries

my teeth elide with one another in a rictus, not a smile

engaging with yet another co-reveller

who senses in me the genus of a germ

airborne, not entirely dangerous

but worth, well

worth avoiding

and this my ( imaginary ) friend

is just the start

even before intoxication alters the scales

and my paranoia settles in, warming to the task

of further reducing me – as a chef would a sauce

to the point where I am piquant

an offering so humbled I would prefer

to be quite simply elemental

and rest in a heavenly quiet

that becomes a prophecy

and then like air

be gone

mayday. mayday

mayday. pic for poem

 

snow is falling with stalled gravity

ponderous in white

a gift we’re told, from Russia

whose flakes stutter in our shocked air

inscrutable as they land

whispering in thick accents

and huddling in a carpet of nonchalant threats

on our lawns whose thoughts

have already turned to spring

as shocked daffodils blanch at the intrusion

dog walkers assemble to dissemble

that the biggest ‘dump’ will be on Thursday

and so we all return to base

 and wait

for everything we ever said

to come true

A player at the gate

A player at the gate. pic.

 

he plucks at the air

cheese-slicing with the strings

of his mandolin

in a nook in the park

a morning surprise

for dog walkers

the early morning stalkers

people

like me who walk the dog

and contemplate before the day

is fully underway

 

that plaintive sound

is like a herald

light on its feet and

with no malice in its whisper

 issues tones like a broadcast on the day

;  ‘the democracy of joy’

how kind of him to lay in wait

and assault us with music

You man of strings

I commend you for giving me

a bright start.