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In a waking night
the icebergs sink wet in piano keys
Lamps blush venetian shame axe handles wheel this dream
Rings worm in wrinkled palms
You are so somnolent you bring quarters to my eyes….
A face is falling from a sky in winter cavern, lattice clouds,
ornate blue.
Our arrival will close a circus
red gloves will undo the trapeze
If I grow cold
I will miss you
if I reach your hand
I will have unlocked
the doors singing off key
Your arrival closes the circus,
red gloves set a mouse trapeze
Green tea cups crack
and on wakening nude
in cubes of salvific cuneiform
We robe again in transits of shade
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John Thomas Allen
Image from David Gascoyne’s Scrapbook
Image from David Gascoyne’s Scrapbook
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John Thomas Allen is a 32 year old poet from Albany NY; last year he published an anthology of Surrealist poetry entitled “Nouveau’s Midnight Sun: Transcriptions From Golgonooza and Beyond” which featured Marilyn Kallet, David Lehman, Mark Statman, and a host of other poets who were in my surrealist group. I have been featured in The Adirondack Review, Spectral Realms, Arsenic Lobster, and a host of other magazines, upwards to the thousands by now probably.
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This is visionary shit
Comment by Cccilia on 28 September, 2018 at 1:20 pmIt recalls The Cocteau Twins
Comment by Memnon the Wanderer on 11 September, 2022 at 11:30 pm