Wednesday, February 10, 2010



That was the fattest pigeon that I saw a flapping in the trees

hiding from a hovering hawk lifted by a gentle breeze .

In the paddock near I heard a donkey bray,

standing lonely amongst the hay.

Ten times around the garden now I've been

and still that was the fattest pigeon that I've seen

Back from sixty I'm nine

Daddy's at the back door coughing that cough,

you know,

stopped short by wince of stretched stitches on a scar from recent repair

with my nine eyes I look up at him and ask my whys

tap tap tap on the pack face of a salty sailor

he answers while stained thumb and finger lifts to light a smoke muffling reply

wisping words spell 'I can't quit'

he spits untipped bits and takes another drag.

-- spell check edited version
Charles Phillips
Mar 01, 2008 - 07:07 AM PST

soo line, potomac, life is a train
as pips from lemons strain of clacks from tracks
rushing graffity across eyes aglase
with the comfort of a sugar hase
at the crossing coffee in the lap
where once stirred juices soured by excess .