MARINA GIPPS Poems

This near decapitated flower,
petals about to be dismembered,
i hold you
...

Killing white daisies-
penniless loafers at
camp wilderness.
So proud he was.
...

This little invisible string
lures me to you.
My conscious fighting
with my subconscious.
...

The art in this room pacifies me.
One sculpture: a bright red short building
with trees painted on its sides.
It has this certain city tone to it.
...

The hackneyed road narrows.
Obsidian winged birds
fly by
Night wades the weary
...

Some time ago, paper fused colors,
blending what should have been
a quiet slope echoing
distantly from now.
...

Unquestioning,
of sleeping herd mentality,
I spread the human better
with that masquarading knife
...

A beehive went underground.
I found it just as I was looking
for sweetness.
No stingers on my knees, praying
...

Black glove at my neck- the end of the year.
Those lovers were soldiers, bed spies,
bombs of leg losing, the mind dropping in one blow.
...

A lantern on a window ledge, lonely,
before expiring itself to the notion of sleep
when supermarkets stay open long after-
for the malingering of confused shopppers.
...