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.




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!”




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.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: