Christoph Praus Poems

A pin on top a green rose,
A jagged clown and eye,
A curved pearl too, spiral,
A pandemonium clenched tight,
...

The anxious gut is a twisted not,
Not for the faint this sucking rot,
And though the thought of birth's besot,
Is nothing if not pain, a lot!
...

Lofty ambitions for so lowly a bird,
No carrion crow with bloodied beak,
Nor a hale spectre of deaths to come,
But a pigeon grey, plump and weak,
...

The clouds are tinged solid,
Red, pink and blue mingle,
Cool air, crisps in my lungs,
Mist stings my eyes;
...

Her wings are broken, rain be-draggled,
I watch him hop, tap nerviously,
Though I want to take her,
And have him alight upon my arm,
...

The faintest dew anoints my face,
And disappears without a trace, into mist,
Sol warms it like each drop were sacred,
And in the verdegris awakes it, and me,
...

Patience little Robin, for you such good,
Things may come for you,
Your mind as it is, is present,
But only if you could see what lies hence,
...

Plum petals are falling into my lap,
Their scent is mild beside a Celtic spring,
And peppered within them, is gold-dust,
The faintest flower of the eastern wing,
...

What I've had for Lunch I'll have,
For Dinner's not long a way,
And Brunch will have tide me,
A mushroom spamba I think,
...

Clacking his fingers along the throne,
Red caked nails sidelong with bone,
Ivory, ivory, white Golem's scream,
Der Golem's heart and mind in hand,
...