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J O H N S T O N E W R I T E R S G R O U P |
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FOUR POEMS by Brian Hannan
THE GOD OF DINOSAURS Nestling Nuzzling Nesting snug in the drape of a giant claw, My baby watches butterflies in fragile flight Dodge the long tongues lathering the trees In a pirouette of necks. Herding Homing Huddling in a swell of skin and scales, Size is our anthem and we roar hymns And pray for wonder as the sparking sunset Fires the temple sky. I remember there was a harmony of bees That day swirling against the swarming dust, Wings drenched shut, dropping one by one Onto sand soaked stems. Now we're parked in the past Illatinated Extinct Innocent. But thy will be done.
DESTINATION ROULETTE Too early Too late Letters spin Destination roulette. Engines Hush and rush Men Kiss and tell Girls Sigh and cry. Pigeons Puke up ketchuped chips. The Tannoy Tortures Every Word. What if no one else Is going Where I want to be?
MISTER AMABO Half man half chalk Mister Amabo swirls from The widescreen blackboard, Tweed jacket tripping ink, Swollen pockets contorted, Grey wool tie infested by A hundred living organisms. When scholars ransacked the earth In a stampede to pin names On all things magnificent and insignificant, He was Dominus Rex. What Caesar Did Next Had small boys cowering In fear of an empire That didn’t entertain the preposition. In a previous life he stood Under a bust of Pliny the Elder And inflicted a harsh punishment For the slightest snigger That interrupted his venerable task Of lavishing the joy of Greek Onto the minds of brute Roman youths.
GLITCH I only wanted to know what I had done last Saturday. I combed every folder, scanned each file, scoured the recycle bin In my cave of memory. But my brain is not a bit-injected annually upgraded technological marvel. My brain is a repository for decay, where memories go never to be recovered, buried under the archaeological sludge of my life so far. I have contracted an untreatable glitch. All I can hope is to know what I’m doing on Saturday next. |