Poems
by Terry Brinkman
Sonnet CLXXVI
Aloft coarsely unbridled Dressing-gown
My Face Mask Sleepy Whale Hellenic ring on the rocks lay like a rag
She wakes as cock-crow clambers out of her Sleeping-bag
Malaise snot-green conversance truck is again broken down
Gaucho distance journey in Devils Snow until she was found
She crept, she slid, she hurtled as she always brags
Human shells crucified skirts, her only swag
Sabastian and she went to cat around in town
Candle stick in wine bottle, ghost light soft
They gamble a traverse to cross, the cross-walk at night
Smelling Pittsburgh perfume not so sweet aloft
Precipitating Euclid Ave gait antecedents Java delight
Fragrance reminds her of her Pinon Pine loft
The maze of dark turning alabaster white
Social Distance
The sun was nearing the steeple of the Newman Center
As I sit Crossed legged on the snow covered waiting bench
My Face Mask pulled below my chin.
Smoking on a Coiled Pipe waiting for
Social distance to end.
Horses Nostrils
Draws her shall across the horses nostrils
Tickles his wrinkled face and filters the dark air
Spits from articulate lips not so clear
His jet of venom falling on the sage trail
Walking distance at only a faithful pace
She wears hair-to-neck-hat
Horse rain sprat on her, made her cry
High-lander square-pushers sell air masks
Two fellows, follow her get and get lost in the smog
Stubborn as mules now they push up Daises
Look behind COVID gesture, universal language
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