David Felix Sutcliffe – Four Poems

David Felix Sutcliffe

Four Poems


Or a door in the dark.
Were words lured to where I work
I’d uncork, pop a cap in the jerk

Who chewed up all my metaphors.
Was almost whole, almost overflowed
almost a long corridor, on each lacquer

door empty plaques, hinges quacking
almost    almost    almost    almost
But Florida. Or a door in the dark.

Or an invisible door, or door to
room interred in cordial land of
Orlando. On the Gulf Coast of

right back where we started.
In darkness. It was almost
dark. It was morning.


Ask the unmasking of light.
Silence clip-clopping into sight:
Your clamming up dilapidates Aaron.
(Yes, he too will be fed to your referent.)

You certainly fractioned or underfed
Or truncated the inversion. One wall,
fat black nametag of a word, singing
Certainly    certainly    absolutely  sir.

Oh Alaska. Certain of what? A light?
It’s the wall you want, a barrier built
round your hazy and hopeless province.
Evict the eyes from the convex heartland

Let them roam the final happy hunting ground.
True, this definition wasn’t utterly defined.
But it wasn’t utterly night, either.


Libya was not as foreign as Libya
of the map. Libya of the pale
half – breathing landscape, past the
fountain in town, follow that

unraveling road. Every instant
is an instant in Libya. For now.
If Libya loves ya, so will I.
Far away the true Libya tu envuelves

is actually surrounding you.
Talking has no effect. Libya
remains Libya. Libya is one way
to say corruption or any invisible

noun, though Libya has always
said Libya has nothing
to do with Libya.

The List Goes On And On

Each thing is different.
Germans are different from rocks and
Sunshine is different from New Jersey.
Jehovah is different from bikini waxes and toes
Are different from Dante different from taxes
Different from tremors beneath the earth. Wings
Are similar to eyelashes, but still different.
(Just ask my big brother, he’ll agree with me.)
Bedsprings are different from everything
Though they do bear a strong resemblance to Dan
Whitaker who spent the whole year creaking
And groaning he was nothing like anybody
I ever met ok I never met him but I heard
He was different from the rest of us.

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