Poetry Drawer: delta cockroaches: axing proves: A line from Lionel Ritchie: Le Grand Siècle by Mark Young

delta cockroaches

Plumbing lines should really
be treated with or treated to
video clips of Michael Jackson
from the days of the Jackson
5. Except. The browser does

not currently recognize any of
the video formats on offer since
YouTube has **completely re-
moved**its Flash player code
from its site. I load up my boat

with pretzels & set sail for the
Azores in the hope that hedge-
rows of blue hydrangeas will
recognize a kindred stranger.
I Want You Back propels me

along even though it’s on its
last legs; but, at sea, it doesn’t
matter all that much. A mael-
strom beckons to me, but my
pretzels kick in & minimize it

in the bottom left hand corner
of the screen where it can whirl
impotently. Finally I reach the
outskirts of the harbour. A limo
is waiting. It moonwalks me in.

axing proves

You do not have to settle for
the town mahjong hero — here,
let me take the keyboard. Lady-
bug y Cat Noir have a past &
revisionist views of events, but
even the most skeptical analyst
does not believe all the goodwill
has been completely wiped out.

So, there is nothing to forgive. The
protagonist enters a new world
where early voting polling places
are not yet available. She is still
quite mobile but gets tired easily.
Is three weeks of it too long?

A line from Lionel Ritchie

She hid behind a tree as a car
drove past. Sometimes these
things just happen, especially
when antacids aren’t working

anymore. Nothing I could say
would help. The surrounding
landscape vanished as the latest
sci-fi series was streamed, ad-

free, on to the quarry walls. The
contextual translation could be
anything you wanted, within or
without your comfort zone. A

boy fell from the balcony. CCTV
footage captured a group of neigh-
bours coming to his rescue. This
Pin was discovered by Prissy Duh.

Le Grand Siècle

Crazy parties at night
in the gardens of
the Summer Palace. Morning
comes, & the crows come
to pick over the remains.
We go for a walk,
compare notes
on the paintings inside. The
Fragonards. The Watteaux.
Reminisce about that
string quartet we heard
playing in the small salon
off the Rue des Brigands
a few evenings ago. There
your heels clicked against
the cobblestones. Here on
the lawn they are silent;
but the crows
pecking at the plates
replicate the noise as
I remember it. Robbers
Street. What did I
steal from you? What you
from me? No demanding
notes, though we paid
the ransoms anyway.

Mark Young lives in a small town in North Queensland in Australia, & has been publishing poetry since 1959. He is the author of over fifty books, primarily text poetry but also including speculative fiction, vispo, & art history. His work has been widely anthologized, & his essays & poetry translated into a number of languages. His most recent books are a collection of visual pieces, The Comedians, from Stale Objects de Press; turning to drones, from Concrete Mist Press; & turpentine from Luna Bisonte Prods.

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