Half Drunk Muse Poetry

From the Archives...

Horizontally Folded Sonnet

A pistol that turns out to be a
folded sheet of paper. Six clocks
with alarms but none of them set.
Spilled milk. A tumble in the grass.
Dog hair on the car seat. Northern
Lights. One Mint Julep. A road-map
tattooed to an eye lid. Bullets next
to a plate & spoon. And sealed with
a kiss. Picnic basket. Hay ride. A
mechanical voice that continues to
repeat the rules. Slick gray stone.
Gulls on a hot tin roof. California
raisins. Scented candles. The rain
in Spain eating up a plain. Elephant
ankles. 100 hiccups. Four-fifteen in
Hong Kong or permed hair leaning on
a bar in a concubine halter-top.
Rubber soles. A 12-step priesthood.
Or just blow me a butterfly kiss.

Submitted by Maurice Oliver Published in Fall 2005

About HDM

Half Drunk Muse was one of the first poetry ezines. It was founded in 1999 and ceased publication in 2006.

Questions/comments? Email samiller@halfdrunkmuse.com.