Friday, October 2, 2015

Russ Cope- Three Poems

Wine Bottle Faith

If I had known all I had 
to do to fall out of favor
was let them see bottles
on the fridge, I would have
done it a long time ago.
I did not need their pandering
eyes and plucky mouths.
I did not need their magazine
clipping faith, but now all I
have is an empty vineyard.

Weirdo Beardo

I've got a weirdo beardo,
it takes the shape of 
a spider,
a crab,
a political party,
a monkish chant,
a country song,
a bottle of sherry,
bits of old vigor,
regrets about Sandra,
a row of hedges,
bound by my face.


'm not connected,
anymore it's like 'm
no longer here and
'm disappearing each
passing moment with
    and you.

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