Leslie Philibert Poems

A dead saint walking; a standalone crossed cloud
sanctified for a black madonna. In hand with a
soon-to-be-holy footer with a belt busting crucifix.
So circle into the blue, the be-seen race, the
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If this poem were in
Finnish, the pronouns
would have no gender;
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A black sea; lights made redundant by distance;
the smell of diesel from the lower decks;
metal vibrating as chains leave cold water.
Leaving; arriving; it`s all the same.
...

If you describe cornflakes as an analogy for the
lumpenproletariat, add milk, then ergo you have
Hegel`s dialectical materialism.
...

Poetry magazines are a lot of poo
They send your poems back to you
With little notes and friendly words
As a poet you`re a wordless nerd
...

The gentleness of rain was in the wind.
No hesitant step; on slips on the salt planks;
the sky broken with grey. A sea change;
a radical with no fear of God; a frantic lover
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Park divided by ducks is standard
Dogs plus leads is dictatorship
Sun minus light is evening
Eyes multiplied by hair is laughter
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The ribs of falling night
Cold flints of Autumn, a dark curtain
Creating two rooms
Nameless stumps of broken teeth
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A face full of fence
a gutbucket full of grammar

fart and grunt an epic
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A wonder maschine with
arms and legs; it taps at doors
and shakes vases. Heavy as a brick,
a dancer over white pages, a changer,
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