If facing the paper, your thought is 'I am an artist', you have no clue what to do. If the concepts of your function are, 'I am a shape maker, an entertainer, an expressive symbol collector'...then you have an explicit road map. Edgar Whitney

Thursday, April 1, 2010

April 1 2010

The Road to Katrine

you got stoned and drove me fast to your farm
I recall it now as though through a monocle
of transparent golden toffee

your nose and mouth pressed into my hair
one arm hooked around my chest you inhaled me
my hair the heat the ripening wheat the

Patterson's Curse raped us staked us both out
in the tyre tracks of the combine harvester and
filled our mouths with purple blossom and broke
paddy melons on our bodies

although you died crushed in the teeth of the
winding road to Katrine you kept your pact
and five years later I woke panting in my bed
with melon seeds pressed into the sides of my head


  1. This is curious and interesting and well-written enough to demand multiple reads. I really like the sense of mystery you've imparted here. Sweet and creepy, almost. And killer last two lines. Bravo!

  2. I like your response, Gerry. I spent most of my my time on farms during my adolescence and young adulthood. I've been attempting to explore those years without the usual romantic nostalgia that accompanies an agrarian theme. I may have succeeded, if indeed, I didn't over shoot the mark!