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The Web Poetry Corner

David Viner

of

Mankato, MN, US

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canis major

by

David Viner

rage in the bleeding eye of a dog come growling

bone and death lip

yellow chiseled sky

canis major flies like hemaphrodite

drunk Aeneas laying waste

in mired field and bow

lean to, lean to and bend,

a dirge before the throw

Turnin

by

David Viner

the smoke that gathers in the seed

the cloudy reformation

a last minute last supper

of garden food and corsico napkins

and silverware that reflects

hungry faces gazing with awe

and determining

that it must be prophetic intervention

when clearly

it was wilderberries and paste

painted by wagner

in a storm

in a manhatten diner

smoking dutch

and bleeding from the eyes

The Interview

by

David Viner

she stared at me

as I continued to speak

her petrified mouth open

like a cracked walnut,

her head shaking

like the branch

that shook

the mouth free

nothing really...

by

David Viner

an atom is air

is less dense

than appears

is nothing really

nothing you

nothing me

which

in theory

protonneutronelectron

racing

like spinning of planets

around the sun,

gravitational pull

not pulling

because it is nothing

the theory

is less than nothing

a word

or idea

without articulation

is atomless

a sentence to air

is also

but ink has

some

some nothing

that does

or does not

exist

as do we

or don't

untitled

by

David Viner

she dreamed
and then she fell,
a funeral to a wedding,
a kiss
to death,
she parades her soul
one through both
two through none
abstract
stained
stunned by her inability to comprehend
the touch of one to the other
sure, life and death
not birth
but birth of love
is death,
an elegy delivered in orgasm.
slightly shaken
but nonetheless undone
she weeps at both
and clings to me

impressions

by

David Viner

her face was left damp
not by tears
but by melting snow
crouched smile
leaning in
toward my target ready heart
it was the first night we made love
it was in the snow
in a city park
both drunk from beer
and a full moon
tumbling, ageless,
snow isn't just for children
it can turn you on
it can turn you
to the top or the bottom,
bruce gilmore would know
he knew women
i know life
and sex and beer,
taking my sad sopping body
and melting her lips
over the chin,
i can't remember who made the decision
but there it was
ten years of friendship
cuckolded
by lust
the ground made it seem
as if we came
a million times
then rolled in it,
but colder.

god

by

David Viner

god is a juggler,
a circus clown,
waving to us
as he passes around again
in a funny red car

George Winston is Amy

by

David Viner

George Winston is Amy
even though she is not up to it
even though she is digging up the past
our past
with passion
abandon,
tightly twisted yellow flags
that i can't cross
for fear of stepping on shells
of our time
relationship
musty
past
sunshine
controlled deftly by pharoah kings
leasing time for religion
not beating my chest
like she did when she was drunk.
i confessed to a friend
that the reason i left her
was because she incited me to strike back
i lifted her 5'9, 130lb frame off
the sidewalk
and tossed her to the ground,
it was winter in La Crosse
we didn't live there
we lived in Madison
and i was repulsed by the idea
that someone could provoke me to action
to reaction
to anger.
i left soon after
taking my books and '79 Pinto
to the mountains
where i could be passive
and drink my head clear

a moment

by

David Viner

the moment hung between us
silence gazing at silence
solitude and synapse
mind over emotion,
placing fingers
tracing lightly
frivilous thoughts,
heat and beer
sweat and silence
the smell
stagnant and sexual
scents from sense
giving furtive glances
she turns to laugh
profiled in the sun
she becomes lovely
shading my eyes
warming my soul
in a word, metaphor
similar to sanctity
lips that make me erect
attention deficit,
quickly responding
to something
i didn't hear