Monday, April 25, 2016

Peter Bollington writes

Upon the Flying Bus You Came

Upon the flying bus

    you came


of a smiling planet, a laughing age:

    you the troll

        arms bursting above your head

            rolling a language to the roof

            while we O we do palely smile

                        or look away

        your mouth is nibbled upon by your nose

            your eyes roll beadily in glee

    and you wide girl of shadows

        from what corner of the universe

            where fairy girls grow broad foreheads

                and innocent sad eyes


    and you man

        head like a squash

            speechlessly merry as the bus highway

                dances on your gaze

            electric joy streams around your skull

        which you twitch as to dislodge

            an invisible threading fly

    and you

        awkward glassy girl of new teen

            face too wide at cheek

                    at neck

        indecisive body

                        now here or here

altogether you are something too innocent

        the non-stop joy you shine

            from slanted eye and lip

        marigolds the white exhausted air

            we mind-tombed others

        expel yet refuse to share

Marigold Girl -- Mulysa


  1. In a comment to me, Peter wrote: This “upon the flying bus” came at a low point in my life, no money, no vehicle, on a bus, and on came what we used to call “mentally retarded” children, and so to this poem.

  2. Mulysa collected flower petals, leaves, and seeds from her gardens in Minneapolis and Portland, and from Kew, pressed them, and used them to make pencil or watercolor pictures with archival glue and papers.


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