Sleeping Food

As a continuation of exploring counter-point/juxtapostion in poetry to create a kind of dialogue in the reader’s mind, these are experiments to find out whether a title – or what presents itself as a title typographically – could function as a first line in a poem. Normally we read the title as a more or less comprehensive catch-phrase of what the text below it will reveal, but in this case the following phrase/poem will be in juxtaposition to what the title proposes. The basic presumption is that “the space” between the two parts creates a room for the reader to enter. I hope it works.

MENTALLY AN OVERRIPE PLUM

suck
shoe
suck

.

SHE DOESN’T LIFT HER FEET

blackshirts taken

.

I’M SURE THE BEACH WON’T MIND

your eye’s a bridge swelling

.

CACOPHONY

easel

.

IT’S MY BRAIN IN YOUR NUTSHELL

one stone four falling with the sparrows

.

TIME SITS ON A BLUE 3-LEGGED STOOL

always she’s closer

.

IT’S A KIND OF MECHANICAL SLEEP

an omelet enters a now

.

ALL THOSE YELLOW HOUSES

someone else
with a parrot

.

MORNING DROP

bird black bird

.

I MEANT TO POST A CRYING EMOJI BUT IT CAME OUT A GOLFER

all that beach and no gulls

.

FOREIGN

[music]

in hand

.

DID SHE JUST SING THE WORD UMLAUT?

sausage cloud

.

RE SISTING

laces

.

YOU NEVER KNOW THIS TIME

mind gravel

.

PEAR

take this this

.

OH, HE MISSED!

a
finger
left
in
silence

.

FOOTPRINTS

but if the waters won’t

.

INTUITED TOMATO

the spellchecker doesn’t believe in Attenborough

.

EMPTY BUT FOR HATS

sleeping food