Toys toys toys, -Will Dockery
Ten mama birds --- pelicans, -Will Dockery
As I told you before, -Will Dockery
Spanish guitar flutters. -Will Dockery.
These are the New Poems
Parnell's Will Dockery website
among these flowers.
Little Angel,
shaven and beautiful,
falls, smacks her behind on the cement
a couple of times.
She's mystical, punk,
and her magic transforms this street
to Bourbon Street.
Three lesbian pirates walk by,
Spaniard girls,
far east traders.
I think of Edith the bag lady,
she's bored with her bags,
her bag is to split me open,
tear me apart with pleasure,
but I am far far away.
Three weeks now in a rainbow town,
living with the Lion and his silver lady.
There's art,
Joseph on his bicycle,
grampa singing his heart out.
But my grampa's in heaven with a ballpeen hammer,
breaking all the mirrors.
Skulls, crossbones,
the Raven does cross stitch,
I look up from my writing just in time.
I see them looking back smiling,
my heart skips a beat.
There is art, the wind is artistic,
the colors so very perfect.
Silver moon like no other,
people shifting and speaking.
Artist ladies,
a street that comes inward.
Cacaphony of music, shout, sounds,
jazz blowing in the wind over my head.
Fast Chicago blues from the tavern,
cars and yells and click clack,
walking sounds and the whir of wind.
Jarrod and Dawn have closed the coffee shop,
so I sit ---.
Then a car Hypoltia rushes by with 70's soul blast,
fast and then it's gone.
I saw death on Saint George Street,
in the doorway of the tavern,
on All Hallows Eve.
Electric fire blood,
remembering Megan's crystals,
spoken of in her poetry.
Moonchild native of the dreamtown.
Going on with a spiral of thought,
remembering golden Elaine.
Flash of sparks of memory,
unfolded to other causes and times.
Problematic possibilities,
paranoic perspective,
peopled by children in an ancient city.
She's bored with her bags.
Her bag is to split me open,
tear me apart with pleasure,
but I am far far away.
Stoneman the Cat
flying in formation, following daddy.
Sitting on the rocks
is Stoneman the Cat.
Watching for fish,
sniffing for Ravens,
brunettes are his favorite dish>
Ah, you grren eyed little fiend,
my friend, have a hamburger,
strut your tail>
Primordial predatory animal.
Grey goatee --- jump up on the table,
you purr like a Harley.
You nuzzle on my pen ---
I'm trying to write, cat!
While you wanna sleep on my arm.
Dream well, Pison.
Similarities
as I told her before.
You two are filled with similarities.
A wrinkle in time,
one of he favorites.
She was in love with Bob Dylan,
saw him in Athens in '89.
Your green eyes,
completely different yet similar.
No not the same at all.
I loved you both once opon a time,
you are both part of the past.
Gone forever.
You both have the firey passion...
in both love, lust and hate.
I have seen and felt these,
in you and in her.
We used to talk all night,
we three,
you and her and I.
Now we hardly talk at all.
Overwhelming sudden love,
now overwhelming distance.
As I told you before,
as I told her before,
you two are filled with similarities.
You both haunt me tonight.
Dream Tears
It was 1895 or so,
I was in a dream.
I met my bride on saint George Street,
sweet brown nameless bride.
In the big clapboard city market house,
train station dream place.
Her eyes and smile,
her sparkle of wit, my dream wife.
We sit with happy conversation.
Across the huge room,
I see the drunken unreconstructed rebel.
Swearing and pushing people.
I nod to her
that it's time for us to slide.
We cut through the side room bar area,
crowded ---
I look back,
my heart sinks,
She is not behind me.
I don't see her anywhere,
among these happy ghosts.
I step out on this street,
waiting, looking,
no sign of her.
I step back in.
Coming through the opposite
far entrance I see...
The parade of proud klansmen.
It all becomes clear to me,
they took her.
My sweet smiling nameless bride.
I step back onto Saint George street,
salt breeze and fish smell in the air.
I sit with a group of fellow ghosts,
beaten and grey under an awning,
and I cry --- floods and torrents of tears.
Spanish guitar flutters.
Secret madrigals by Will Dockery
nothing here yet
or here
coming soon...
