James Bradley

Four Views from a Camouflaged Shack


Four Views from a Camouflaged Shack
(in no particular order)

by James Bradley


He hands over his dark Obsession to its dark Object—
Swan-girls high on wings cry, tangled white yarn binds their hair
Orange sapphire & lava rock weighed traverse
Dawn’s golden body from elbow to elbow
Sun awash, disappearing, disappeared like
Anomalies purged by the programmer
Gone are the days of free-roaming viruses
Proud mutants’ majesty upon

[call this the southerly view]

Four Views from a Camouflaged Shack2020-06-08T06:51:22+00:00


By James Bradley

Artificial Intelligence
Of riot police—their padded limbs
Tangled tightly in a black veil
Of plastic & synthetic fire

Breastplates of jacinth, brimstone
And triangulating ‘chips
Capable of locating each
Secret, inevitable thread

Of subliminal contrition
Within a heterodox tract hid,
Their rods of absolution
Humming a simple melody

For scores of black boots to dance to
In steady lockstep, in rhythm,
Thus is the countryside trampled
From Charleville to gay Paris
The dirty-faced farmers are all
Self-erected memorials
Before a hand-painted backdrop
Of non-existence & wheat stalks

Barefoot, the poet walks along
The provincial lanes by day,
And by night sleeps curled within
One such black boot’s footprint

In the series left in the wake
Of the boys with plastic faces,
The rhythm of […]

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