"I had many things to write, but I will not with ink and pen write unto thee..."

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LOUIS E. BOURGEOIS, his site: www.voxjournal.com PS : sponsor poetry visit Poetry Sponsors HALKIDIKI

LOUIS E. BOURGEOIS October My father buried a fish in the deepest woods. Liquid death poured from the fish's eye. The fish was still half alive. A gold filling lay in the carp's red mouth where an infant sea turtle still swam. My father was a madman in the dust. A liquid fire began to inflame the radiant night. The moon is an unhappy sugar, melting in emerald smoke. No one can save us here, thought I. Please help the little ones, as I crush them underfoot. I kept thinking about the red carp's mouth and how my father buried the carp without a prayer, then I began to eat pork. In mystical light I stood with something in my eye. God help the little ones, I crush. My father kept burying the fish. He buried it fifteen times before he ate it. Oh, mystical one, the birds are in a rage and the does are beginning to growl. I'll take my father, wash him, then eat him, like he did the fish, then the trees will finally eat me and I'll finally have an orgasm. Oh mystical one, the moon is spent and the sheep are dead under starlight. ©2007 LOUIS E. BOURGEOIS

poetry endangers the established order in the soul."

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PoetryRepairShop MM.01:008 IZABEL SONIA GANZ Four-leaf Clover emerging in fields of three-leaf sameness converging from four directions in paired remembrance of dried-out luck ©2007 IZABEL SONIA GANZ

Repair Your Mind...Read More Poetry!

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VAL MAGNUSON Leaves Autumn, do not leave For your chambers fill With feathered gentlemen Their raiment pommeling the hills The gingery banks are splashed In paprika and nutmeg tones Autumn, do not leave I would only have alone Your magical woods work Slips far too fast Through my very fingers Envelop me within your imposing cloak Stay awhile- linger The Guardians of the South Like some Greenwich clock Promise warmer beds To every passing flock How they fly! How they fly! From the radiance of your store Autumn, wonderous Autumn Sing a little more- Autumn, splendid Autumn To your every essence I could cleave But all you do All that you can only do Is to forever Leave ©2007 VAL MAGNUSON

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