Three Poems by Christopher Barnes

Thumbs Down

 

A last debt’s also on the executioner’s skin.

The imprisoned stretch of paralyzed snapshot,

This would contort an abominable Xmas card.

Your chronic refuge,

Fooled by this Persil-white summoner.

 

Arteries are a burn, a whack.

No eyes startle the exposure time,

Denied is a predisposition to glimpse.

Watching itself.

 

Aftershocks

 

The presumption is – knockout’s crisis

Is a crunch in a second.  There’s tell-aparts

From mug shot to passing time.

Specters undertake to materialize.

The pew of conviction’s wired up

To the repugnance of The City.

This is, frankly, “hasta la vista!”

 

Brainer

 

This blanched anteroom’s irksome,

A shrine to Edison ’s trails

With cats and dogs.

Squishy seals, a queasy camera-lens.

 

Crabbedness of scalding muscle.

Water-salt that sopped electrodes

Is dust.  You have passed into a frame.

The body streams

As life empties.

 

Christopher Barnes

 

Christopher Barnes lives and writes in Newcastle where he dresses loud and walks his dog.

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