The Argotist Online

Home     Articles     Interviews     Poetry     Submissions     Links

 

SHEILA E. MURPHY

Sheila E. Murphy's most recent book publications include Incessant Seeds (Pavement Saw Press, 2005) and Proof of Silhouettes  (Stride Publications, 2004). In addition to prolific offerings in poetry, Murphy creates visual poetry and electronic artwork. Her original training was in the area of musical performance and composition.

 

 

LULLABY AGAIN

 

Approach. The singsong synonyms for justice waver just as speech inflects too coldly for my taste. Whose little ringlet of a curl just missed the tiny wrist. Goodness of fit has been deceased the better fraction of a minuet. Why now? Why try to weld yourself into protective comas. Soon enough, an outer must repair. The singular requires an outback in its condescending kismet. Wait. March. Salt the pavement. Carry forward livelong apparatus. Someone coolingly will sing and it is you. To you. The break is copasetic. The space between is long as yellow silk. We will be waited on till breath is motioned to the depths. It has been many years since being rained along and several seeds of dampness failing to be reached just now.

 

Appointment to the pale authority one once permitted under circumstances that have failed to balance

 

 

LAMBS IN QUAKE

 

Void’s proviso must prestige. I’m chambered in the rucksack, sensing things just out of earshot. And the spoken trellis fingered by my younger side grows warm apart from test tube rankling or undue inspection. Promise me you’ll work until fibers crystallize this rain. It’s you I’m thinking of when I weigh in for hopscotch stories. The forty-some-odd yards between our homes makes travel time a dose beyond loose windows that respond to hints of flight. The more I sideline what I came for, the higher the intended probability for risk seems slight. Give your thumbprint to mean word and I will semi-sweet your mid-career. Suspend my curiosity by giving out an integer as indication that the morrow will retain its dog-eared shape connoting strenuous intent.

 

Lip-syncing the obvious, a shallow curtain sprayed with rust, amid familiar faces

 

 

I WANT TO TELL YOU HARBOR MOREUPON THE REGENCY OF SPEECH

 

these to tame each and on margins in the

mid-main-streaming audioscopy to brand the hillens

cautiously as reach and claimed as insolent new fodder

fire the wasp on skin's arrondisse & the martyr tops

to garner reveling still preach consistent ire

 

no matter thisaways due morning cautions whereupon to

fire the till to register effete indulgence heartless

sharing normal weekday habitat as if and only if new

ways of urging through the math were diatribunary

bundanoon for hire I see the glow worms stretching

forth the necks

 

a pirate is a hobo and a nurturance performs

predominaria for lyre tones to be etched into the

place a wheel would tee off and arrive all whereabouts

apart from compassing and foraging and trespass most

of gender is inherited

 

practice makes lure whose entropy mid-diamond 'glects

the full staff and represses for to fibrillate why not

the noose and wherefore art entire upon the knob

approaching entrance to what's called the space at

paces worthy young as pearls due lorn

 

 

from OMNIA 

 

109.

 

Summa cum Utah, flay your arms until the atmosphere appears too crowded in, contaminated facts

 

Brave drip-dry finesse temptation not to cave when pressure

plops into a fascist lap, it is so blemished an ulterior

feeling to depend on anything

 

Barometric tresses, loose aglow, the singles in a

Freeway romp, the Lourdes water countable for

Sweep cement, drifting beyond block shot and so the

Margin call yields frankintight forays into con-

Founding meager ricochets, to need equals, blah

Blah blah withholding the antipathetic factors of

Two tipples half across

 

She singularly, slowly leaves the place a quiet

Place I watch her and the ball game, seven minutes

And seven seconds in the half, a paint job

Any child would skill for, orange and glorious

With purple prideful, look at how she spills

Paint over sun shafts, prelling water, letting

Daylight practice fading

 

 

 

copyright © Sheila E. Murphy