Rob Stanton – Three Poems

Rob Stanton

Three Poems

Wells

i. Dawn is not what she was      * Wars and illness make the most      * Each of her books is one      * A ghost tormented by further ghosts      * Bowls and dishes such as us      * All that is hard and fast Fall A little something. (A thinking thing.) A something Necessary. Odd: the obligatory pigeon with deformed Claw. Author berating actor. Other pigeons Nabbing crumbs, heads down-and-up, down-and-up like jack- Hammers. All things music. Everyone smoking roll-ups, roll- Ups. Aesthetics ‘eats’ ethics. Something to spend the next Ten minutes on. If you can’t grow fingers grow Careful. Grow plainer. The Aztecs as equivalent To snow. We’re carbon: make pencils of us all: write out Our lives. The Alfred Wallis kite, placed in orbit, an eternal Fact. Leaf-shadow swim-jumps the street, a leaping Lizard. New game. Passengers are a nuisance. End Of line. We, the former monkey-kids, three-legged Dogs, object. Root/routes. Inner/prop/reiterate. Moon: bright Lemon slice (especially). A dying vitalist. (Actors Berating authors.) That is all. Pratfall. Wind-up. Wells ii. With little (or no) attention span      * Another poor motive seeps into view      * From one car to the next      * From ruin to ruin to ruin      * Coming to fatigue by every route      * Pet to prophet in one gear-change

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