As Joseph Adjusts His Charisma ~ poetry by Colin James

Sure there’s contour
among the bodies in the bushes,
as there are notebooks on the flora.
It’s the coughing that’s unnerving
idolatry, haltering.
May as well be at the beach, staring.
I was just walking my dog, man.
The cars came around the corner fast
their high beams blinding me momentarily.
I saw little else on those cloudless nights,
other than those wanderers.
It seems someone threw you back
as they would an old T-shirt.
Your followers and
their flickering torches
extended like comparisons
over a series of small hills.
They were spaced out eventually
hidden in seamless rhythm.
Voices can do the same
without the patience.
How could we realistically be
able to find a ride back into town?
It still bothers me to this day.
Before then, I had
never met the Druid
I could bargain with.


Colin James has a book of poems, Resisting Probability, from Sagging Meniscus Press. He lives in Massachusetts. (Direct link to other SMP titles.)
 
Show Colin some love via PayPal at janeannjames(at)yahoo(dot)com.