April Poetry: Lin McNulty

In recognition of Poetry Month, and to celebrate and highlight our treasure trove of Orcas Island poets, Orcas Issues is pleased and honored to again offer daily poetry during April.

Thistle Dew

— by Lin McNulty —

shrouded in clouds
my wandering loos’d
from a history of mystery
i’m shamelessly toss’d

searching for signs
reaching for arms
longing for sighs
avoiding all harms

sun lights on cedar boughs
bark peels from madrona
fog banks to the left
thunder storms at night

in morning light,
in nighttime fright
if it’s not to be you
thistle dew

Odor of Jazzmen*

–by Lin McNulty —

it begins in the foyer
at nostril level—

withered carpet marinates in
acrid candescent carcinogens
hot neon syncopates in from street
candles reek of fresh-burnt bees.
from feebly lit stage

failed anti-perspirant mixes
with caustic scotch
Cuban cigars
and skunky weed
as clarinet with halitosis
spews inconsolable remarks
across front-row tables

smooth, sultry licks
from scorching sax
exhale putrid pronouncements
to deaf ears in back row.

I wish to be knocked scentless!

(*Inspired somewhat by JoEllen Moldoff’s Odor of Jasmine)

Retreat

— by Lin McNulty —

………..Don’t you just wanna
………..go there?
To Paris, I mean.
Not just go there
be there.
We might rent a flat
for two months,
even one month,
or a week, or two.
We can go to bed
with the windows open,
make noises
that meet the street.

……….Don’t you just wanna
We could stay drunk on wine
and wander out
only for food.

We’ll learn enough
of the language to giggle,
not a sufficient amount to speak
with anyone else,
just enough to murmur
to each other.
……….go there?

You will go out
in the morning
while I shower
to a boulangerie
And bring back
baguettes, croissants, fromage.

We will stay
until we are no longer
intoxicated with Paris, with each other.

……….When we become dry, parched
……….I shall send you home.