Exploding like spiders across the stars

Tonight I'm letting the poems speak for themselves, and for me. No, it's not a cop out because I'm drunk. It's art.

Permission was granted from Michael Gunton today to present his haiku here. I heard him read this at a Writer's Evening in Ottakers one night a few months ago and it's as gentle, and honest, and beautiful as that first time I listened to it.




wagging its tail
in the new house
the blind dog

Michael Gunton.

When I first heard Michael read this, his only comment upon it was, "I suppose we are all, in some sense, a blind dog in a new house."

And a poem of mine that I like to think of as an homage to Dorothy Parker and a modern spin on the limerick:

"I have never been able to stand, " she said,
"the thought of someone that I couldn't fix."
So he fixed her, there,
with a fiercing stare,
and he smashed her heart to bits.

Last, a quote, courtesy of the Chief, by Jack Karouac.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

Stencil courtesy of Samantha Fritter. Check her out at MySpace: