a simple answer woulda

April 27, 2015 § Leave a comment

having mouthed a saidfull about comfort creatures and

therapy scents

his sonicfication of 

ambient harshness came
in its
undulatory locomotion 
melodic as a pneumatic drill
a blaring cort├Ęge in serpentine along unguarded senses
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 

our Lewis

April 24, 2015 § Leave a comment

the inn –

with different things   
showing
cleric and epic and
deity
off to Europe
with no money
for untiring fluids
bought
is the first half of a place for 
our Lewis, as said
“it is a lot of
fire in unguided wiles
to the is”
when a quick look wheels back around to what he said
said was “urgency to intend a good idea, if ever, to chide
as when
I met Anjali
she being an heiress
in a good job
       l do mean to the whole”
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 
 

planting onions

April 21, 2015 § Leave a comment

four rows of onions
in for sorrows 

with
each bulb pushed
into furrows
along
mounded rows
went a wee bit of trouble
tiny worries gathered
throughout the day 
ensconced 
within a chrysalis of
earth
waiting (as we are   all)
for transformation 
to begin it’s work 
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 40

April 20, 2015 § 4 Comments

Chapter 40
– hypo 
his needle is
is to stay
in excelsiored dreamscape,
a final conversation
always a playback away
         but the rooster
         sticks to the only
         plan he knows
a rumpled man rises to

notice a sickle in the sky

it brought to mind
                 the moon
as it was the night he realized
there was to be
a portion he
would have to
leave behind
a segment of his youth
the ages
would have to decide
             a proper place for 
now he        (     if
captured in archival footage   ) 
            
     would be observed
     seemingly to be waiting
for certain years
to die, finally, a
good
quiet death
guard bird sings truth to an audience of dawn and the one
destined to spend
his remaining time on 
this stage
(cobbled from coffin planking
& emptied book shelving)
balancing clarity 
(a plate spinner
in monochromatic perpetuity)
trying to forget names
trying to forget numbers
trying to cold turkey 
an addiction 
to the rewind
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 39

April 11, 2015 § 1 Comment

Bewilderhof – 39
Chapter 39
– sloth’s puzzlement 
laying
        in dream
inducing 
garden
in front of the porch
                      he
       (being of scientific mind)
tried to piece together 
proceeding days
with logic
             mathematics 
however
having been drunk
Tuesday,
         so long.
wed. never arrived
another gap in existence 
another overlooked clue
     a poppy can 
quiet a mind     instill
   an
instinct for reverence 
(the trick being 
– locating proper point of  emersion)
((& recognizing 
misdirected preference))
as name implied he moved slow in getting to his feet
and turning toward the sound of the tractor emerging from the barn   a trick-
    of memory a moment moored by a thread 
       of clearer head
       of hand on handle
       of candle and seal
a remembrance straining against 
hold of the cleat 
time to adhere
to notion of passage
       little more
before 
the line snapped
& into a drift again away
sloth kicked empty bottles aside picked a bloom for his lapel mostly because he figured it Friday and there was tradition written down somewhere of celebrating that day in one fashion or another though it was actually Thursday and his adornment was just another out of place icon to be defended with churlish blubbering’s 
Bewilderhof cut the tractors engine and climbed down to attach a hay wagon just as sloth was passing
“how are you with change?” sloth asked
Bewilderhof didn’t look up
addressing his answer more to the hitch than the embodied hangover doing the asking
“I’m all for it…
but not around here”
climbing back into the saddle he finally acknowledged sloths presence by tipping his cap
          B: hey,
          s:  hmmm?
          B:  what’s
                with the     
                    flower?
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

seismicity

April 9, 2015 § Leave a comment

mistrust that seeps
into
cracks 
in any mantle
will always
lead to slip
along the fault
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

within

April 9, 2015 § Leave a comment

sky, this morning sang
harmony rises from rim
of the bowl I’m in
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

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