Selected Poems by Colin James

March 23, 2018

 Photo Source: Pixabay

 

 

SEANCE ON A HOUSEBOAT

 

 

Bitch of a ladder.

Tiny and impractical.

Mother, sister voiced the pointlessness

resting on uncushioned seats

complaining of apocalyptic joint pain.

The captain commiserated impatiently

his wife the Medium was waiting.

The stairs down, narrow almost nonnegotiable.

We bumped our heads & wailed.

Mother fell into the Medium's larger chair,

wouldn't move. "I am sitting here!"

The small boat rocked in somnolent mood.

A fog or misery mist hung down too low.

The Medium groaned, dealt a few tarot cards.

Pausing, she couldn't sense any spirits close.

There would be no refunds.

She eventually acknowledged our sincere threats

with reference to The Coast Guard Of The Eternal.

 A substantially larger boat took us to shore.

Endeavoring to neutralize the Medium's hand curses,

we held up three of our own as the fog dispersed.  

 

 

 

 

THE FIRST WANKER TO PAY HOMAGE TO THE DARTMOUTH CURE

 

 

In the winter I rise at dawn

around nine, clean the vats

of their potato pancake residue,

try to dissuade old Lefty Donovan

from shooting the feral cats

with his air gun that hide

nobly under the potting shed.

Breakfast is a beginning that starts

with bad coffee and progresses.

A routine any concessionest

would find sedative. 

 

 

 

 

TRADE ROUTES
 


The first thing you notice is
the hillsides are littered with us.
We're like grass gods.
The quantitative never fails to come up.
Then there's a flash of light
which consummates the sale,
and a clean break-up
that can last days.

 

 

 

VISITS FROM AN OLD FLAME

 

 

She showed up in a large, white van.

Her cauterizing tools were kept

within Velcro flaps that enthralled

the vehicle's essential task.

No discernible hats.

Her talent is concealed,

wrapped astutely out of sight,

in a long coat of lipid gabardine.

She sniffs, my blood is here

love's wound spilling still.

She searches for a source of power,

plugs into a polarizing orifice.

My anemic blood stalls.

She gathers up her things

and has departed

before I even swell.

 

 

 

 

CONCERNING MY LATEST ADVENTURE         

 

 

Looking out of the window

I was just sort of daydreaming

thinking of a burning candle

in a plastic egg cup and the fine

layer of soot everywhere it touches.

I couldn't find the little stereo

I bought in Boston,

then I did so I played some music.

My neighbor paused in the hallway.

Sometimes she sings.

She was carrying a tall plant

almost bigger than her.

She left it on the landing

now I have to walk around it.

Downstairs there is a marble top table

with numerous samples of junk mail,

and some assorted key rings.

 

 

 

 

Bio:

Colin James has a book of poems Resisting Probability available from

Sagging Meniscus Press and a new book of poems forthcoming

from Wondor Editions. He lives in Massachusetts.

 

You can check out James' book here and titles from Sagging Meniscus Press here.

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload