archipelago

Christopher Mulrooney

rubaiyat

simply the commonplace item

ready to hand

the staff of life and drink

the object of belovedness

in a way seeming or seemly

in the presence of one

the bliss of the moment

I could rake off the top

says the mobster the instant

gratification of a bookie’s dream

but where does that get you

I ask you playing the horses

where ya gonna buy Kentucky

at this hour o’ the night

sanctimonious

it isn’t the freshets

at an hour before sunrise

with the fog creeping in

to your tent like Sandburg

but the solid hour

of the midnight oil

truculent

the disquisition speechifies

in gallon hats five ten

you name it it’s a great dispatch

of the remaindered going nowhere

clearing the shelves at last

huddle

that is where the strategy comes

across the line in the end zone

the filthy lays in code words number

and a slap of rhythm in helmets

for the sake of one Hail Mary

sidle

the crass tones and idle words

press too luridly against one’s buttocks

and a frank overhaul is not in the cards

come on now is the breeze a mess

does the Latin lingo buzz with Inverness

saddle

boots and is the cry boots and

where is the riding house in the lane

behind the stables what stables the house

of the horse what horse the one and only

equestrian statue to model by horse

dingbat

what other course vat of wine fermenting

answering service taking everybody’s calls

a profusion of wires ensuring the plash

of beaded bubbles winking at the brim

and a poem to commemorate him

takeover

emerging at the bath towel aimed

properly avoiding all the other drops

raining on the carpet below

it takes the phone is that you Harold

how was Italy you are still there fine

climate zone

at this bend of the bay I can scratch off two

and count nine into the bargain oh yes

the garment district is run on the suppliant logic

of plaint and scruple making a muckle

out of a mickle and a very dill pickle

an authoritativeness

I perused all the library books

in all the monasteries

in a hundred mile radius

nay a thousand

and found not such a volume

aviation headquarters

I was at Bianca or she was at me

I forget which says the flier’s joke

goggles on flaps down or is it up

where the flying jelly comes in jars

that catch the light in surprising ways