Sunday, March 8, 2009

emily ~ mark cobley

in its branches

behind the dry stone wall stands the whitebeam

are paint shades of islands of seas

but their faces, in the magazines

shadows with names not yet made up

I notice in the corner new shadows

when the wind lets up and litter settles

i gaze twice, once in a mirror

when frost whitens your gaze

sung sea shanty, old song by the harbour

Yokohama pear tree. Sometime willow


memorexe said...

lovely, haunted and partially disemvowelled.
Nicely done Cobley.

Have you pulled a reverse Joan Crawford?

them said...

odd one this - came from talking to the good Emily. A 30 second poem written backwards via Facebook. But I like the idea of pulling a reverse Joan Crawford.

the memorexe said...

I meant an inverse Ms. Crawford, which would be far more complicated than the reverse.

Are you ensconced in her mythos?

them said...

My Mythos is unsconced for the nonce.

But who lives in Little Neck - not that it is connected.