POETRY KITe ANTHOLOGY

FOR I WILL CONSIDER MY BRICK

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For my brick comes from clay and returns to dust.

For it was an instrument of empires: Babylon, Rome.

For it enslaved Hebrews building Pithom and Ramses.

For my brick wills itself to be an arch.

For my brick is of the guild of builders.

For it builds bookshelves to hold Hesse and Gibran.

For it is a breaker of windows by anarchists’ arms.

For it makes a pendulum attached to plain string.

For it plumbs the depth of wells.

For my brick scrapes dogshit off the soles of my shoes.

For it saves water when flushing a toilet.

For it serves as hammer when no hammer’s to hand.

For it stops a screen door swingeing on its hinge.

For when stamped by name it proclaims suzerainty.

For it stops up the badger’s hole.

For it props up the gimp-leg table.

For when heated it warms my feet in winter.

For it retards my car when I change tyres.

For it holds down this poem in a stiff breeze.

For it leads Dorothy unto the Land of Oz.

For when so commanded my brick will drown kittens.

For it is a term of endearment.

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# posted by June Clitheroll : 3:01 AM  1 Comments

mushrooms

.

are poisonous, not many but

some are and who knows

which? I found these beneath

the oak tree spongy between

old roots like fallen clouds.

lost in a dark place but now

mashed along with weeds and

twigs and a small dead frog who had

never been kissed or caught up in

hallucinogenic spells. All

murdered by the Qualcast blades.

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# posted by June Clitheroll : 12:44 PM  0 Comments