Writing Out Possession

You can break and steer by folding one wing. Way out west
the poppies blow between tombstones while beauty rides
convulsive undertones & tortured tangos. IT sticks out like
a sore thumb. How to recount what has not been counted?
These bricks build a broken home. A dough-shaped void and
locusts drenched in honey. Words cross tongues. Lemon center
with an orange twist. Passion is anything that can be erased.


a hole
             in the coffin
       lets in some light
       but there’s
no one there

lump of sand &
a fist forever
       a history that’s apt
       to fail

the stars
at white heat
a series
of tendencies
                     and we acquire
                     a “moving visual thinking”


a greenish brownish
liquid backed up
the tub

one form

while other forms
crowd the entry




heightens & ob-
literates & by the time
the sleepy-headed
turf wakes up
from winter
decorative bodies
are laid out across the lawn

Marcus Slease is a native of Portadown, N. Ireland. He currently lives and teaches in North Carolina and is a member of the Lucifer Poetics Group. He contributes poetry reviews and audio for miPO Radio (http://www.miporadio.net/MARCUS_SLEASE/index.html)