Bjorn Thomson

Bjorn Thomson (bthomson@direct.ca)

Star Charts

The cosmos

is my lover.

The beads in her hair

brush my hairless chest.

These words:

Wonder, disaster,

are hers.

We, a column

of bright coral, rising

from the living sea,

rush to embrace her -

managing, despite

adverse conditions,

two inches a century.

A Benediction

1

Let us charm

with our weakness

the sallow girls.

Let us bite firmly

the freshly expurgated

placenta.

Let us regard

the word,

its familiar

turns into obscenity.

2

Tell us

in your own

twenty words,

how the miracle,

the finite, fleshy miracle,

was attributed

to this

era.

Whatsapoet?

The poet is

a termite

in the house

of the Lord,

the echo

in the corridors

of power,

is Language

Management

Coordinator

overseeing

the placement of simile,

also responsible

for diversifying our

metaphor portfolio.

Like

Mighty Oz

we look upon his

works and despair

that he might

ever get

a real

job.

Wisdom At Last

I will stand

On a streetcorner

With a suggestion box.

I will scour

Junk shops

For self-help tapes,

March straight to the doctor

Demanding

My appendix out.

I will break cigarettes

Over my knee

Accept Jesus as my

Savior

Inform my loved ones

About the dangers:

Thalidomide, shock therapy, the Chinese.

It's

Time to

Set

My

Life in order.

Bjorn Thomson