Refrain
Poetry by Garry Thomas Morse
Refrain, the second stars & living skies & artificial lake dissemble
Refrain, last night there was a primitive mask that was part violin
Refrain, the public library is pressure like that brain-eating amoeba
Refrain, the public square floods your natural chiaroscuro with light & heat
Refrain, the opera refrain transcribed for a short avant-garde for its time
Refrain, unaware of such swelling intensity
Refrain, your cruelty is constructed out of mortal selvage
Refrain, your overture of purest nausea & erotic frustration cannot find a bedpan
Refrain, meet me when you are most off
Refrain, who can forget the magisterial example of found objects
Refrain, you saw that
Refrain, that truly smarts so avenge me without delay
Refrain, these fatal notions have gone to pieces
Refrain, these fatidic inklings are beyond the pail
Refrain, your hair upon pillow calls something else to mind
Refrain, those plaster hands are holding the void
Refrain, may one thing lead to another
Refrain, those interrogative cellos are kind of a thing
Refrain, give me back every letter that met its fiery end
Refrain, tactility in a dark theatre is not nothing
Refrain, that amount of musical ecstasy is terribly misleading
Refrain, say passionate because the common vernacular is too crude
Refrain, your finest analogy just sank into imaginary harbour
Refrain, how you haunt the most vital of my haunts
Refrain, the herd has stopped at the edge of a precipice
Refrain, the beetles have stopped at the belt of an elm
Refrain, our prides like lions to the death
Refrain, not here
Refrain, asleep beside the fake creek, the startle reflex
Refrain, that would be the easy way out, a ladder in a Miró
Refrain, what if we don’t systemize or monetize this
Refrain, the second violin is still moving
Refrain, the fakir can only climb into the witless witness
Refrain, the currency of these raw hurts is surprisingly dear
Refrain, there is a bird where your beautiful head should be
Refrain, in shadows of parterre & upon parquet floor
Refrain, for this love, some assembly may be required
Refrain, allow me to look at you for just a moment
Refrain, becoming encyclopedia footnote is perhaps not everything
Refrain, that partita in D minor, unless you are entirely insensible
Refrain, kindly set up a dialogue with the one I adore, no, that one
Refrain, even the gargoyles are bent out of shape over this
Refrain, you must translate this brick by brick
Refrain, honestly, there was polyphony in that striking face
Refrain, your familiar keeps pace with each of my episodes
Refrain, your preamble does not qualify as foreplay
Refrain, draw the blinds I am gasping
Refrain, these were the correct colours for sad lyricism
Refrain, there is an irregular heartbeat in that last symphony
Refrain, at the root of our teary ejaculations is equinoctial anxiety
Refrain, do not be ashamed
Refrain, those blotches have no interpreter
Refrain, just reflect for a spell on how wonderfully we cleave
Refrain, the nudes descending the staircase are not ready
Refrain, more swells & shrill cries of the disgruntled orchestra
Refrain, copulating like two skeletons on a corrugated tin roof
Refrain, you colicky baby on a flight at the eleventh hour
Refrain, then the pelican floated under the bridge & surrealism was born
Refrain, then after many hardships you used your lovely mouth
Refrain, such whispers
Refrain, the splash of the fish was not a symbol for our excellent sex
Refrain, the mourning dove is holding together okay
Refrain, we have to stop meeting like this
Refrain, that beaver chewed through leaves with remarkable abandon
Refrain, do not look at me like that I have lost the plot
Refrain, there is nothing to understand or forgive
Refrain, there is still a wet cliché on your chin
Refrain, come with, that is what the ladder is for
Refrain, voice of Garry Thomas Morse, refrain
Garry Thomas Morse has published two books of poetry Transversals for Orpheus (2006) and Streams (2007), two collections of fiction, Death in Vancouver (2009) and Minor Episodes / Major Ruckus (2012), followed by two more books of poetry After Jack (2010) and Discovery Passages (2011). He is one of the new Canadian Surrealists influenced by the writings of Robert Desnos and Native traditions. He currently resides in Regina, Saskatchewan.
