Bio:
Christopher Mulrooney has written poems and translations in Southern Ocean Review, Evasion, Text and Cordite, criticism in Parameter, Elimae and The Film Journal, and a volume of poetry called notebook and sheaves.
to-and-fro
still the spelter of a very tiny army
tenting its hands for the great spyout
on haunches rapt
my phlegmatic heroine summons himself to seat herself
gaggled at the sunshine
of the artificial horizon
the weeper doesn’t understand
and cries out sorrow
with a mocking laughter
to-and-fro
we go
amid the snow
pastoral
not possible the rainy days
the law’s delays
and the sour contumely of erratic ways
theme and spheres
with a violin accompaniment
in the sports arena
it’s a capital idea
would you from my one ideal
draw the line that figures us my dear
the canon told the vicar
and the parish runes were told
in the vicarage pastures
once or thrice
dixit
it simply will not hold any water
this bucket
you will hold a different
perspective saying
unto me aha behold the rim
fancy ain't it
pearl-handled
like Diana's bow
fretwork and filigree
oho
roil our own oceans
the tally man
comes to us across the skies
he tells us all our histories
and makes up what he can
it is fully
our mad statistics compares
what any poet may who dares
and then this bully
scholium in a used book
why it's
not's
impossible
you would have to define your terms
poet for this bunch
who are not to be moved
any more than stone is
intellectual disgrace
hardly
human face that's what we are
as a whole
stares we understand
