branding frank's collected poems

Francis sighed quite drolly. Caught, collected, webbed at last, captor Kyobo saw that KTF -
a final, cinused dosirak - branded half the poet's arse. "Lonesome poems
fit gloomy castles fine," scoffed Lotte, a nurse whose power screamed a new maturity;
"Goldstars, universality...worthy badges, true. e cummings, m ali and a jolie are
evidently so, no? Your morphine, Sir." Frank's solahart fell shocked in twain, immediately bliss. Samsung
then, of Herbert's song; a quiet, eerie wake. Anycall is made as read, insult now dehearted.

plane song

for Sonia Giles

1.
wheels gather
speed distance
widens gaps
earth's first links
torn away
silence roars
find myself
alone
airborne again

2.

when needy feet flail -
seek ground to know again;
they reach somewhere near.
mum, this reaching silence calls
full names. spinning in absence;
you remain, always giving birth.

3.

son plus mother; is that the word behind
my lips kept against departure? silence
never drowns it out. space's weight dissolves
no bond. though we may not speak
its name, i live within the sum we share.

Painting

1.

each in time begins to look the same
if art discovers hints of red
in what is seen
that same old bloodlike substance
floods each ready canvas

2.

an iron box rusting
under my bed
protects them

after drinks we rush right in
our delight
busts it open flings
and drags their bloody
frames across the floor

loose bits wetly catch
the heavy carpet

3.

so we rip
our lifelike studies
in our redness

bare those entrails
painted so painstakingly

will them perfect wholly