Thursday, October 30, 2014

NEW! Three poems by Jeffrey Skinner

Jeffrey Skinner



Who would the sky help thinking 
Crisp wrought iron shadows 
Asked what I wanted
Got what I asked, more & less

Game of life-sized air hockey
Little faces to knock you down dead 
Maybe if I had a look at the poet
I could upload the poetry

I’m talking consciousness, Bub 
How it anchors & tugs
Then lets out a flying laugh
O you windup machine of meat!

—Iron bars at its feet—
Man alone is an end in himself


Did you get what you wanted?
Mass of unconnected wires
Plank extending from flatbed, red flag 
Little gods of approximation

Smack of flesh on flesh
I move my chair for a different view 
If only I had sleek Europe!
Not just plugging like into like

Belief also chooses
A soul made of many tiny robots 
Sky atilt, trees piled bottom left 
Short-shorts with cuffed hems

Moral to the smallest button
I have what I want & will, always

The Flood

I dig for something cool
I snarl as well as kiss
I bring mother’s death closer 
I open doors in the river

I dial a smaller wish
I don’t agree with my position 
I see mother claw the screen
I hawk, I dog, I ant, I fish

I prank up as if an angel
I give man & chair equal weight 
I whine like a tooth
I break myself on text

I pull mother’s soft ribbon 
I let the Ohio find her

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