Sheila E. Murphy
Condonation
He performs what he
performed and will
perform. And shows me
variations on
the theme to be
his legacy. I recognize
the hiss of disappointment
when the instruments
malfunction. Malfeasance,
though, remains
unlikely. The instruments
remain unwieldy. The hands
employing what
keys do, defer to keys
and channeled breath
to lubricate and fabricate true north.
Quaint Curio
She talks about her latest
project, as though
I might aspire
to same or similar,
as though informing
a young facsimile
of self what heights are
possible, if not likely.
I fail to glaze over
during this recital.
I lavish sweet perfume
of my mentality
concerning a CV as plush
as a new feather bed
on which I lie, repeating
what will not be rinsed away.
A Frayed Timeframe
Nocturnal obvious fringe birds
line the gaps in hearing,
while I read a narrator
I learn to enjoy.
Which of us sparks
unfettered fire? The word
"inadvertent" simulates
another word that I forget.
I have forgotten innuendo,
a word my mother used to
chalk. We offered her so many
opportunities, op cit
in primacy-recency conversations,
disguised as dialogic. We still
norm our way to peace
time(s) three and linger.
Next Door
What little she
had, she gave,
she did not
count what left
her hands invisibly,
instead, the sky
showed its quiet
self, she heard
other than sound,
the lone moon
and the branches
in between it
and her eyesight,
stillness. Not doing
or even thinking.
Being, simply being.
Sense
Having curtailed more than
you have contributed, I feed
and clothe the spirit
that I know is there,
somewhere in the vicinity
of breath, I feel released
close to the infestation
of foreign and near
objects, substances, routines,
shuttled from your assumed
world weariness to my
certain practiced innocence,
as though swathed
in novelty accompanying
birth, beyond, yet sinking
into terra firma and its plates.
Sheila E. Murphy's poetry appears widely. A new book of visual poetry by Sheila E. Murphy and John M. Bennett YES IT IS, is just out from Luna Bisonte Prods. A new book of visual poetry with K. S. Ernst is in process.
Murphy lives in Phoenix, Arizona.
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Condonation
He performs what he
performed and will
perform. And shows me
variations on
the theme to be
his legacy. I recognize
the hiss of disappointment
when the instruments
malfunction. Malfeasance,
though, remains
unlikely. The instruments
remain unwieldy. The hands
employing what
keys do, defer to keys
and channeled breath
to lubricate and fabricate true north.
Quaint Curio
She talks about her latest
project, as though
I might aspire
to same or similar,
as though informing
a young facsimile
of self what heights are
possible, if not likely.
I fail to glaze over
during this recital.
I lavish sweet perfume
of my mentality
concerning a CV as plush
as a new feather bed
on which I lie, repeating
what will not be rinsed away.
A Frayed Timeframe
Nocturnal obvious fringe birds
line the gaps in hearing,
while I read a narrator
I learn to enjoy.
Which of us sparks
unfettered fire? The word
"inadvertent" simulates
another word that I forget.
I have forgotten innuendo,
a word my mother used to
chalk. We offered her so many
opportunities, op cit
in primacy-recency conversations,
disguised as dialogic. We still
norm our way to peace
time(s) three and linger.
Next Door
What little she
had, she gave,
she did not
count what left
her hands invisibly,
instead, the sky
showed its quiet
self, she heard
other than sound,
the lone moon
and the branches
in between it
and her eyesight,
stillness. Not doing
or even thinking.
Being, simply being.
Sense
Having curtailed more than
you have contributed, I feed
and clothe the spirit
that I know is there,
somewhere in the vicinity
of breath, I feel released
close to the infestation
of foreign and near
objects, substances, routines,
shuttled from your assumed
world weariness to my
certain practiced innocence,
as though swathed
in novelty accompanying
birth, beyond, yet sinking
into terra firma and its plates.
Sheila E. Murphy's poetry appears widely. A new book of visual poetry by Sheila E. Murphy and John M. Bennett YES IT IS, is just out from Luna Bisonte Prods. A new book of visual poetry with K. S. Ernst is in process.
Murphy lives in Phoenix, Arizona.