View Full Version : One Machine In Two Hundred Parts. By: Mrs. Dobbs


mrs. dobbs
03-15-10, 09:52 PM
1.

blank, she swallowed
dry, a quiet light
the click of a page
betrayals in ink
an onyx bulb gives
in to the creamy pulp
here lies the beginning
here lies the end

2.

berries, juniper
and brown paper
songs to escort
the orphan into the night
she lost her father
she lost them all
to the story, the keys
the type

3.

it's over
follow the ferryman
smoke, spit, alley urine
past there, the songs
of the children who
had you, drift in

4.

one on the railroad
one in the mill
one in the cabin
one on the hill
sends cream by train
for the sickly girl

5.

1956 had no room
for anyone else,
young lovers

6.

1975 they kept living
in spite

7.

2009.

8.

now it's down to us.

9.

is truth ethical when
she knows your year?
you will take her with you
oh my god,
did you just call me?
was that your voice?

mrs. dobbs
03-21-10, 12:29 PM
10.

dark berries
cock to one side
the place where you remember
beautiful black eyes

11.

trees lean like lace
muddy foggy air
orange lights and
jet fuel, diffuse

12.

you're leaving
one tarry road
for another
smells of wet oil
mark

14.

birth onto asphalt
tarry canals
foot takes a final pound
thin blue nap over concrete
and then, tiny spaces

15.

dear birch trees
protect me
here, where i don't belong
two branches divine
fortune, gold lines

16.

gone are times of
honest hard slog
cast iron
blue rocks
chains for human cargo

17.

heart, a blast furnace
climb down and die
in the mine
or love me
until i come up

18.

until the morning sun
dew, pine, yew

19.

is that you?

mrs. dobbs
05-15-10, 10:43 AM
20.

beauty like
celluloid droppings
on a cutting room floor
troglodyte nightman
bed behind the door

21.

flower water, bordered
an old moldy ring
scent pinches my face
a neighbor tries to sing

22.

if only that i could find
card table, hot plate, kettle
and mattress springs
the spell my name in metal

23.

and a place that shakes
on the approach of the Red train
or a view from my kitchen
diamond, left turn, right turn lane

24.

instead crystal, silver
from dried up veins
an overwrought library
beveled, leaded panes

25.

the sordid, sore,
and wholly ungood
tasting like pigs quarters
smoked in apple wood

26.

the crunch of a spider's nest
in the tulle of my dress
issuing its babies
to suckle at my breast

27.

or maybe the underside
of all my favorite things
padded with green velvets
and tiny little stings

28.

closets of fans to
blow away my foes
frigit air and hot dust
condensation, clothes

29.

wrought hearts, pineapples
turned and pounded cool
twisted tines, and teeth
cold rust orange pools

30.

all those places
long, far, and away
this quiet longing here
desperate not to stay.