ForkWord




Poems by Inchiki



 


closm



prescient impressions
of you
closed, jammed, into my skull
locked there for weeks
like knotted weeds nesting
growing a compact root ball
increasing daily the tension
till a crack, a little sound
a clock ticking
or a ships rigging snap
marks a tidal shift
then - PLOSION!!

you are all over the place
all over my life, my face
the mess in my notebooks is
full of you, i am breathing
in time with your breathing
there is nothing left
of my brain my skull
just bits and pieces
of broken flowerpots
and messy roots and soil
and tangled blue flowers

i wonder at the hours
till dawn
the grate crackling
my head full of fire
bombed with visions unending modulating
parachuting down
to be lanced on a pulsating
tremulous quill end
and i rock with my head in my hands
through the hours
till the cool grey light of dawn






Poison Bomb  2011