The Gorko Gazette

Degraded Toast

A melting horse upon a plain,
blue is the sky with white cloud scuds
and a committee of vultures
patiently circling lunch
as a gang of black habit nuns
perform a gnostic ritual
with wooden staffs and torches.

I am merely the observer
of an art book opened on the floor,
bad eyes and a mild headache making
the page a little blurry and the image
received far from the reach
of the realist artist, whose
name serves no purpose here.

The breakfast routine
leaves a tang of biting char
in the flat, terribly close today
with summer sweating
into October, the leaves still
green but dry as stale communion wafers.
My naked toe flips shut the art book.

Don’t know if I’m done yet.
It feels like we need a splash of red
to be memorable. Shaving later,
I nick my chin, perhaps on purpose.
A beautiful drop of blood appears.
Then gently I dab it with a tissue
and a red floral something happens.

---

All Things Delight the Maker

Against the screen of halogen light
extremities beset by photons tingle.
All things delight the maker, all night
we sync the humming to the quaver
of unseen life behind the unseen ring.

A dumbshow of appreciation follows
when the kids in paisley pajamas
constitute the continuity of the line.
What clumsy accounting, fellows.

What a show for the rancid mind
overwrought from vapid scrolls
through which the mind grows cornrows
and blue-edged Swiss cheese holes.

Commandeer the armies of your ego
to pledge no allegiance to the rotting tangerine
recently made the deity-designate
of the mad and the nearly sane alike.

Matters nothing, in this code form,
the words read as words and not
as directives or slurs against what
may bring an end to the soothsaying art.

Whatever may be a fitting response
from a mouth full of cankers and cold sores.
Choose your poison with care in the night
as the blood points of your spires gleam.

About the artist

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Image generated on deepai