Damian Rucci
Musings of a Derelict Poet #8 The Keansburg Boardwalk is Decadent and Depraved by Damian Rucci
April 1, 2016
#thesideshow April 2nd 2016 3 micropoems by Trish Hopkinson- Day 2 of National Poetry Month
April 2, 2016

#thesideshow April 1st 2016- James Walton-4 micro poems-National Poetry Month Day 1

Big Head

So wide you could land a liner there
wheels touching down turrets steaming,
politely garbed down Bourke Street numb
unlike the beggar guy unrestrained
“Big Head”, Big Head”.
Lets it all out, all the civil blanking
hair piled like fairy floss ballooning
from the sugar maestro of all get out,
saw it first and looked away
across the graph of tram lines.
But not street life without shell
“Oooh Big Head” he won’t let it go,
smiling it was the first thought I had too
sought the berg pavement of titanic saddle.
Bury it down there keep lips together
all rushing the gangway disembarking,
“Ah fucking huge” he exhales disbelief
at the cowardice of our get away.

Delphi Descent

The only thing that you will ever learn
is that love won’t break your heart
usually. Tear out those wrist lines
paint them in the blood of the goat,
carefully. When you hang me upside down
remember whether obedience or heavenly nearness,
summoned. Hands outstretched offered in peace
no longer warmed at the oracle brazier,
pray. Our pulse runs together finally
earth above a fatal dizziness spell,
ends. Burnt rosemary, tincture of wood,
the beautiful frailty of human souls make the gods.


Back in the old habit, the biro
missed dawn’s innocent vein
anxious instants sharp as a honed axe
lifted from the stone
of who would come again
in the once and minted future.
From the embankment of quiet suffocation
the faculty of sleep is closed
deep, deep, the pearly eye half opened
disdain the colour of nonchalant swig
breathe, breathe, to squish the overhang
the monster stirs


The Ox and the Echidna

Since I mislaid my ballet slippers in thought between here and then
I haven’t moved so well
there’s no need to be so prickly!
You can burrow down spitting the grass out with those claws
idle away and sense the passing
doggo nonchalant hiding a little
Time for you is as the world is big to the ant
a languid slow ellipse to a busy end
have you found them yet?