Wednesday, June 30, 2010

smokescreen's chess

someone told Olov he would not live to see the behind of
smokescreens no stars
the smoldering salmon's squirming
on elements

woman match game
his brain cells stiffened like hell
she says this is
the coming of age
the coming
of control mechanisms

Olov plays chess with
Lena countess
of bitter
british pub tables are
blackened in the window light


Peter Greene said...

So much reading to catch up on! It's funny, when I get no work done, I don't keep up either. You'd think one would free up the other, but they seem to go hand-in-hand instead. Hand in hand off the cliff, this week for me. Awesome to see all this art piling's like a treasure cave. Thanks PO for this poem - and all the rest of you below as I catch up, peruse, intake, explore, and masticate your work. I am very slow right now, and need new batteries and better pills. Happy Canada Day, all. (I think it's Canada Day - at least, the clinic was closed and I have an inexplicable urge to drink beer and watch TV, neither of which items I posess).


Jenny said...

Great one again and it gets better for each reading. There is a sharp steel-like feel partly hidden by mist in this piece.