Seven Short Poems

Blinky Palermo, Flipper (1970)

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THE ARTIST

"I don't want to be an artist
I want to be the apocalypse"

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THE BACHELOR

the bachelor eats a fried egg
the bachelor sits cross-legged on the floor
the bachelor opens a tall-can of beer
with the heel of inherited spoon

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THE FUTURE

nearly bald on the sides
food delivery guy
riding high
on a bike

(Berlin, 2017)

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THE PRESENT

once the confusion washes away
this too will become
a golden memory

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THE TRUTH

try to writhe free
from the hand of god
and fail

try to become god
and in the process
create hell

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THE DISGUISE

I dreamed of great success
but oh, success is so illusive:
one moment you’re an angel
and the next one you’re a nuisance

my friends all started telling me
I'd make a decent father
and I’d like to half-believe them
were it not that I had only grown
a moustache

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THE PILGRIMAGE

every morning
cargo ships
arriving in the ports
deliver gassed green bananas
and a few determined spiders

every morning
kneeling mothers pray
their children’s safe return
across the conflict zone
that lies beyond the kitchen counter

every morning
sunrise meets with
countless square kilometres
of places uninhabited
by things with given names

(peace)