| January 2008 |
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POEMS
Poems by the UK's Christopher Barnes
I’m Not Built That Way*
(lesbian & gay uprisings)
I could squeeze out
The colourings
Of being abused,
Be myself equal,
Unlearn to read the shouts,
Ease myself into a
Backless chiffon dress
And click through Fenwicks
In red-stilt heels.
*from the LP, Floorshakers, Kent Records.
I’m The Boy Playing Sandcastles On The Beach
The sun wheels a blaze
Like the entrails of rubies.
An oxide sputter
Of waves across lathered pebbles
Countermeasuring the game.
The ad hoc twinkling is dislodged.
A saturation of stop-go water,
Guitar fish, motmot birds,
Alert under layers of light.
I’ll Miss You Strawberry Sun
A speed steely libido
Spikes the unquenchable
Dead queen
Like glass nettles.
Where are all the raised arses
Braced for this gay boy?
The Matts and the Michaels
Have broken the chain
Blowing in winds
Of mad champagneless addiction.
* * * * * * * *
There was no dope in the biscuits
Ecstasy in the cupboard
Acid in the jazz.
I died young.
A polydrug bouquet
Colours the empty grave
- Voices tell me so.
The mythical hero
Splits between
Catacomb and chalet
Across the sea of pretty
Painted patterns
Coming and going
Consciousness in a bottle.
* * * * * * * *
I died in the morning
- Chewed slowly
In the jaws of a tarantula
Feeding its pregnant giantness
In the bare lounge
Of your asylum.
Ibiza
Snowflakes and syrup of coconut milk,
Squirt of pineapple, homeopathic dose
Of lemon, best white rum
In double-strength rations. Garnish.
Swig. A tongue on indomitable lips.
The bowsprit is specific heat. Sundial crackling,
Puss-flowering cacti, short-circuiting poppies
In stainless steel jeroboams and a desertized mat,
Pigment deficiency of an Indian twill.
He bristles, undressing, lovely and blond
Waiting for the metronome of high summer to begin.
In slow time he boils his skin dry.
A blunt dance floor glow in steaming bars.
Realization is a man in blurred light, groping,
Whimsy under epileptic stars,
The kiss of the venturesome butch
- An amber-fingered dawn
Met with the rasp of fuzz
Across dreamy chins.
Illusions
“He evolved galleries of quaint beings,
male and female, grotesque, whimsical,
bizarre beings, yet sufficiently human
for us to see and understand the solid
foundation on which burlesque was built.”
- Dan Leno by Jay Hickory Wood
DEATH IN LIFE
Collapsing through a harp, elastic strings
Leno knows bounce,
Lightfastness, mystery.
No longer caring
For the net pings
He paces long strides.
Bedlam nights,
Howls, lost souls,
A squarish stage-like cell.
A sketch, watercolour, theatrical
Movements of shadows,
Hanging on the wall.
In this cold sweat
No mirrors are needed
To unfind himself.
A storm of make-up, wigs,
Poses, new characters
Impose themselves by the minute.
LIFE IN DEATH
Unseen draught
Is creeping boards
Slick as greasepaint.
Coathangers rattle: silks,
Butcher-stripes, velvets
Glamour of a kitsch bazaar.
Stanley Lupino snowbound in Drury Lane
Removes thick panstick. Lamp-lighted
Bowels of the Theatre.
Insane quick changes,
A lost Dan Leno
Flickering in glass.
(based on an extract in the autobiography
of Osbert Sitwell)
Imagination Disrupts Lessons
At Study Card School
Abscesses are sinkholes encircling pus.
‘Herrlich’ expresses ‘marvellous’ in German.
The Chantels cut the velvety ‘Maybe’ in 1958.
An electric-blue giraffe
Nibbles
Lobsters Honolulu
Off that
Bubbleglass
Window.
More poetry in this issue:
The Birth of Soil
Caribe Casanova
Crickets & Machetes
For Sale
Skies Stained in Arctic Blue
Back to main page
Poems by the UK's Christopher Barnes
I’m Not Built That Way*
(lesbian & gay uprisings)
I could squeeze out
The colourings
Of being abused,
Be myself equal,
Unlearn to read the shouts,
Ease myself into a
Backless chiffon dress
And click through Fenwicks
In red-stilt heels.
*from the LP, Floorshakers, Kent Records.
I’m The Boy Playing Sandcastles On The Beach
The sun wheels a blaze
Like the entrails of rubies.
An oxide sputter
Of waves across lathered pebbles
Countermeasuring the game.
The ad hoc twinkling is dislodged.
A saturation of stop-go water,
Guitar fish, motmot birds,
Alert under layers of light.
I’ll Miss You Strawberry Sun
A speed steely libido
Spikes the unquenchable
Dead queen
Like glass nettles.
Where are all the raised arses
Braced for this gay boy?
The Matts and the Michaels
Have broken the chain
Blowing in winds
Of mad champagneless addiction.
* * * * * * * *
There was no dope in the biscuits
Ecstasy in the cupboard
Acid in the jazz.
I died young.
A polydrug bouquet
Colours the empty grave
- Voices tell me so.
The mythical hero
Splits between
Catacomb and chalet
Across the sea of pretty
Painted patterns
Coming and going
Consciousness in a bottle.
* * * * * * * *
I died in the morning
- Chewed slowly
In the jaws of a tarantula
Feeding its pregnant giantness
In the bare lounge
Of your asylum.
Ibiza
Snowflakes and syrup of coconut milk,
Squirt of pineapple, homeopathic dose
Of lemon, best white rum
In double-strength rations. Garnish.
Swig. A tongue on indomitable lips.
The bowsprit is specific heat. Sundial crackling,
Puss-flowering cacti, short-circuiting poppies
In stainless steel jeroboams and a desertized mat,
Pigment deficiency of an Indian twill.
He bristles, undressing, lovely and blond
Waiting for the metronome of high summer to begin.
In slow time he boils his skin dry.
A blunt dance floor glow in steaming bars.
Realization is a man in blurred light, groping,
Whimsy under epileptic stars,
The kiss of the venturesome butch
- An amber-fingered dawn
Met with the rasp of fuzz
Across dreamy chins.
Illusions
“He evolved galleries of quaint beings,
male and female, grotesque, whimsical,
bizarre beings, yet sufficiently human
for us to see and understand the solid
foundation on which burlesque was built.”
- Dan Leno by Jay Hickory Wood
DEATH IN LIFE
Collapsing through a harp, elastic strings
Leno knows bounce,
Lightfastness, mystery.
No longer caring
For the net pings
He paces long strides.
Bedlam nights,
Howls, lost souls,
A squarish stage-like cell.
A sketch, watercolour, theatrical
Movements of shadows,
Hanging on the wall.
In this cold sweat
No mirrors are needed
To unfind himself.
A storm of make-up, wigs,
Poses, new characters
Impose themselves by the minute.
LIFE IN DEATH
Unseen draught
Is creeping boards
Slick as greasepaint.
Coathangers rattle: silks,
Butcher-stripes, velvets
Glamour of a kitsch bazaar.
Stanley Lupino snowbound in Drury Lane
Removes thick panstick. Lamp-lighted
Bowels of the Theatre.
Insane quick changes,
A lost Dan Leno
Flickering in glass.
(based on an extract in the autobiography
of Osbert Sitwell)
Imagination Disrupts Lessons
At Study Card School
Abscesses are sinkholes encircling pus.
‘Herrlich’ expresses ‘marvellous’ in German.
The Chantels cut the velvety ‘Maybe’ in 1958.
An electric-blue giraffe
Nibbles
Lobsters Honolulu
Off that
Bubbleglass
Window.
More poetry in this issue:
The Birth of Soil
Caribe Casanova
Crickets & Machetes
For Sale
Skies Stained in Arctic Blue
Back to main page
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our ultimate goal of paying all the artists
who contribute to the magazine, as well
as to improve the website and build the
infrastructure necessary to further unite
art and activism in the Calgary
community. If you like the magazine
and the values it stands for, please feel
welcome to contribute.
Equally important is to get the word out.
Advertising is expensive, and the best
advertising is by word of mouth. If you
like the magazine, or any content in
particular, please take a few moments
to share the link with your friends.
Feel free to join our Mailing list or our
Facebook group.