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three  poems  ||  colin  james

5/12/2020

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ANCHOVIES OF THE AFTERLIFE


If there were more credibility
I'd be out of business,
but my pizza bistro
is doing quite well down here.
The people I bump into
are usually very hungry,
ecstatic to find a vendor.
Toppings of the everything imaginable.
I wouldn't eat that
until your stomach is acclimated.
Invariably I am asked,
"do I know of a way out?"
Sometimes there occurs a purge,
a lightening of the load
rivers of you know, remorse.
They usually come from up north,
amid infinite initiatives of course.

​



INVISIBLE WORDS, SIX THOUSAND OF THE MOFOS


I read your letter
and didn't recognize most
of the people and places
you alluded to.
Your sister with the orange hair
I would have remembered her.
Are you throwing a ruse
because I am a little bit
light on top, myself?
I never gave you any of
my personally valuable paintings.
Found your outdoor slipper stuck
in the window's outer screen.
Don't try it again.
Here is a phrase you
may be familiar with,
Restraining Order, you lunatic!
Initially telling me you were an only child,
which would have made perfect sense.
There are very few who have mastered
writing in a stream of consciousness.
Bit tricky, leave it to them and please
try editing the rest down to nothing.
I have zero desire to know
anything more, even the half of it.





DEMONSTRATING TO SOME DISINTERESTED DEVOTEES
WHY THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY BACK IN


The pathways to our dreams are
guarded by Ricardo Montalban's Pomeranian.
Holograms of haziness, sputtering zaps.
Click on your favorite image
and wait a short while.
thought we were near Cleveland
but this will do.
Jansenists of the junk yards
are looking up and waving.
Think I'll bring us down next to
that environmentally challenged pond.
A shack with a pleasant enough porch.
Knock three times on the door.
We may hear a growl or a snort
depending on one's interpretation of sin.



​
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