Two Poems by Colin James


Whenever I see a bolt
sticking out of someone’s head
with protruding thread,
I think another off season spent
compiling interpretations of
fascinating northern Europeans.
The anti-establishment congruent.
A dollies rusty bent wheel echoes
through drafty castle corridors.
Soon to be oiled bloody.
If brought back to life,
expectations will detract from
the actual, so I am going to
place your remains here.
Mourners filing past may
flinch in anticipation of one
good final flying flat-liner.



The dirt floor crawl spaces
beneath front door porches
held much more appeal
when I was younger,
running from neighborhood
dogs or owners. Surviving
territorial amendments
that played out daily.
Some had unused coal doors
accessing dusty cellars.
Patience resulted in vindication
for my naked apparatus,
fittingly just an aphorism.

Colin James has a book of poetry, Resisting Probability, from Sagging Meniscus Press.  He lives in Massachusetts.

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