Friday 5 May 2023

2 Poems by Philip Kobylarz




Ingredients. Jet streams. The wherewithal. Ineptitudes of a sudden nature. Shades of shade. Not

                                                                                                            to be. Perpetual

eclipses. Pink angora hat. Verbiage left on the scrabble board. A wound opened, bled,

                                                                                                            wiped with vinegar.

Chrysanthemums of the sea. The shock of after. In the magpie's nest, cigar bands. And the moss,

                                                                                                            resisting; red.





As of yet, untitled. The naming of the wind. One such none such. Orange and white

                                                                                                            compliment of a dreamsicle.

The parade: one after another sponge. What doesn't fit into cardboard boxes we call

                                                                                                            furniture. Postage not

canceled. Windings of a clock. Garden fenced by tiny boulders, otherwise known as rocks.

                                                                                                            Burden of empty milk

bottles. Stasis of the guard. The worst of times, around when o'clock. Tree obscuring

                                                                                                            the light of clouds.


Philip Kobylarz is an itinerant teacher of the language arts and writer of fiction, poetry, book reviews, and essays. He has worked as a journalist, a film critic, a veterinarian's assistant, a deliverer of furniture, and an ascetic.


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