In the Park of the Jolly Meat Beaters

Gary Robinson

There’s no time to lose in this world
made more beautiful by its end so near
—Enrique Lihn

Each has staked out a tree a bench
—children mothers at sunset the day jubilant to be done with
shadows begin their encroachment like a bath house
males ready to trample with the downpour of night
third eye bewildered unblinking
Grass flowers cooling expanding into soft geometries
my mind thinking to pollinate reaches its verses of dry heaves
Men silent dog-faced as a sail of blue stars
though children are immune stripped tragic
dreams milked fragile as bones
Finally I awake to see the crime so plainly so bald
the crime the acts the desperate acts
while panic sprawls has been sprawling
There was Paradise once the garden flooded colors
I understand why the men leave their rooming houses
—escape the colloquies of crematoriums
the park unfetters improvises
takes away the past the future
This is their square foot of absurdity assurance
Mania challenges the hairy sun’s accusations
I am an autistic spasm that arranges the gauntlet
scattered when heaven somersaults into morning

Gary Robinson lives in Ottawa, Canada. He has written poems, short stories, and a novella. He enjoys reading and writing. Currently he is working on a new collection of poems and writing a novel.

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