DM
153
Gregory Autry Wallace
Poetry
Lavender and Frankincense
The creature filled me with
smooth and glistening
smiled serenely as they
threw slowly back
upon the printing press
The evening's automobiles
propelled by centrifugal force
speed past high chimneys
with impenetrable speech
Blood upon the threshold
a feather gives coronation
victim to the terrors he had
fitted into peaceful countryside
Only prison door
opened his mouth and sighed
the crash and roar of
huge antique panels
A Current of Hot
the survivor
rattled on
and on toward
lantern
wick was probably the cause
dumb girl talks
sliding floor
and I found each step
sun follows me
dial tone in blue gauze
the chimney smokes
things fall
along the speedway
child of heaven
his glistening
magic people
of the wasp
Isabel
Words cannot paint the horror
of escaping, expecting
every saint in heaven
and inwardly perceiving an imperfect ray
of clouded Spanish masters
speaking to a rose garden/
she addressed herself to
automatic process,
pyramidal energy beam shone
on the princess's situation/
the point skids into the suburbs
whence hung a fragment of earth
as softly as possible,
she felt for space control cells
certainly an inside job
at last, her hair gets
into the car packed with
conflicting reports
Alone in so dismal a place
her mind imprinted with all the
terrible events of the day/
hopeless military vehicles crossed
roof of the vault which seemed
to be fallen in and from
the mysterious point
a cactus man entered trembling
into the vault/
these thoughts crowded on her
distracted mind
and she was ready to sink
under her apprehension
Then followed bear who
perceived the head of a beautiful girl
and between her legs a torrent of sugar plums
they were far from comforting,
Duchess of Kirkaldy's breasts
extended thirty feet out of the window
from which rained pink cases
of gingerbread covered
with porcelain dolls
The Prime Radiant
Psyche was turned into stone
by the flag of film
she could not even weep
the lost glossing of “reality”
seemed like stretching
and though her body was
present, her strangeness
was simply some tassels
piling upward with
enormous stars on them/
millions of us in this hat
were parked within the strict
confines of a child's mental
archives lined with snow
the accident was terrible
something was the matter
with the disc
apples on the crater
raise their heads and
almost always surfaced
in the mysteries of Osiris
saltcellar suddenly began
moving on the table
before the tiny child
The youngest daughter's prophecies
produced no great disorder;
they gave these policies life
this country with its laws of glass
had organized a system so
completely by the weight of the dangers
of these stars in our flag
everyone was in the large disc
of Isis and I had yet to attain
immobility. The other children
wave helplessly beyond the cape
The Four Queens
Queens have not always felt
ripped and torn but in the past
the knight's senses stirred
when she stood near to him
you begin to have access to
things beyond her body
darkness and cold stone
are a rarity in the world
we have the red flame partly
covering her emerald
she dropped her lids
we have decided to let you make
pretty things beyond belief
she moves towards Lancelot
shimmering green halo floating out
around her body
she walked as people do in dreams
with the botanical mantle that covered
the ground, shattering
her weeping willow hair
Gregory Autry Wallace is a poet, painter and collagist living in San Francisco. He studied English, World and Comparative Literature, and Creative Writing at San Francisco State University. His poetry and collages have appeared in Athena Incognito, Black Scat Review, BlazeVox, Danse Macabre, DM du Jour, Clockwise Cat and Five 2 One. He was a poetry editor for Ink Magazine and a founding editor of Oblivion Magazine. In addition, his paintings, collages and assemblages have appeared in juried art shows.