Geraldine Monk














POPPY HEADS.















POPPY HEADS.


 
I yawn up the edge of my pond -
mulling of  imperial
leather. The lettuce
eaters rob aquatic glad cake.
 
 
 
 
 
 
I dream reams on the edge pond
it is always too late with me:
a second behind
the moment I should be asleep is never. 
 
 
 
 
     
 
I sob on the edge of my pond -
be careful what you wish for
runny eggs on sunny bread
bore horny thorn with sundunce.
 
 
 
 
 
 
I marvel on the edge of my pond -
a door is not a feather for every wind
to blow. A misheard word un
heard in under-be the-soughs.
 
 
 
 
I quake at the edge of my pond -
the terribly nice age iced.
Eye motes gathered
at full loon. Birds flew blightfully. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I slept on the edge of my pond -
storm grew attitude with accent.
Diva weeping on  a
shrinking violent hymnal. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I shared the edge of my pond -
stuff the stock markets my socks are
constant odds.  To make a pair buy
three. Hump unwedded earth with poking toe.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
I dredge the edge of my pond
not much there in reality.
My shadow on a shadowland  
we wobble in beautiful arms of bluff blinds.

 


























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