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Joined: 01 Jun 2008, 09:17


#1 Post by Kenneth2816 » 13 Feb 2019, 19:03

A pump in his pocket keeps him alive;
bilge of old sea water from a dying planet.

At night, he slips his human skin,hangs it
In the closet next to his one good suit.

They cut him open once to see the stuff
he was made of: an Indian head penny,

a yellow cats-eye marble and a locket
with a portrait of the queen.

Home is a light year and aeons ago,
he fell from the heavens like lightning.

Alone, he pulls the shades locks the doors
where he is free to be what he is,

a fish-faced monster with three eyes
who promptly at nine, with an unobstructed

view of the southern sky, sips Dewar's
on the balcony, listens to Mozart and waits

for the signal that never comes, the frequency
to trip a diode in his head, the sequence,

the count down to terminus.

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Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03

Re: Marooned

#2 Post by BobBradshaw » 13 Feb 2019, 21:17

Good one. Don’t we all feel like outsiders? And mortal?
Love a monster who
sips Dewar's
on the balcony, listens to Mozart

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Posts: 836
Joined: 22 Jun 2006, 10:56

Re: Marooned

#3 Post by Billy » 15 Feb 2019, 05:28

I actually like the first half better than the last. But I like the whole poem pretty much. Very good.

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