Christopher Mulrooney
a port in every girl
the rambling village
doesn't exist any more
than it has to
and if it had to
it wouldn't bother
so there is a close approximation
it shall stand i' the sun
just so along the water
and if mayhap the sorry bungalows
and burghers come to an arrangement
why there'll be room
and accommodations for all
if not why then
why then
poet laureate of Azusa
the calm downward thrust or
pull
thrusts downward and recalls
the pull of tides when they go backwards
out to sea from the banded shore
back over ankles of your feet where the little seashells
tickle all my fancy all the livelong day
what hey what ho go-go Tojo aieeeeeee
in the apple trees at midnight
in the leaves that tell their secrets
to the man of business
going his secret rounds
what is in his briefcase
who would ask would know
a sandwich and a sob story and a plan
a long-term plan that goes on and on and on
that the pen has written and goes out to write the lamps in the street
one by one all night long until the dawn
creeps along the waterways with Fiberglas boats of white
rocking gently rocking
into the forenoon
Bio:
Christopher Mulrooney has written poems and translations in Red Hills Review, Segue, Burning Leaf, The Drunken Boat, and Voices Israel, criticism in Small Press Review and The Film Journal, and is the author of notebook and sheaves.
