The Chimneys of Orthodox Churches
March Larch & Birch over me
In production lines
its crooks with Salts of the Earth
& clogs its pews with incense or slate.
Dynamo spat out Virgins with Children with Halos
Make a stark, (old) contrast with me,
Especially when they're dimly lit.
Unfolding my arm at my elbow I could brush one.
But I wouldn't: I'm choking on inscence
At the part where the 2/4 thumps.
And you weren't round that corner I pictured
Only concrete. on grey. on ground.
I wonder which tomb they'll think suits me,
I wonder what song they'll all sing
As I'm coughed out of Orthodox Chimneys
With Beeswax cloying my wings?
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6 comments:
1. This is non-fiction.
2. As My Moonbeam and The Gander know the song they ought to sing = 'October Song'.
3. Special thanks to Kyiv.
In time I shall respond to content for now I shall respond with some Natural Observation from a few days back:
Strange Weather
rain as a sheet
from nowhere
6:04 a.m.,
halfway through a cigarette,
mostways through a bottle of wine
and remembering beer in the fridge,
Curtis Mayfield on the radio.
After all my efforts, this bloody Blogger System decided to ignore all my extremely prescient indentations. Never mind.
The most imporatnat thing currently is that The Gander is singing = 'October Song'.
I'm sure that Your Moonbeam is doing likewise even independently of this instigation.
Whatever you're doing, Moxther, and you know how strongly I feel about the pacing of things, I just hope you're not Russian it.
Happy Trails x
Imporatnat, if you don't mind me saying for a second time, and a third - imporatnat.
It is nice that Jack Left Three.
It's quite fair to say that the more imporatnat the more pressing and the more pressing the more I'd consider it imporatnat.
Not that the two words are synonymous- Heavens no.
But I am pleased nonetheless.
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