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Bard Between the Lines

me imprison
 
Library police

bust offenders for

un·seamly acts, they

profile

mal·contents

in the most

forward manner, they

target
 
 

The Borrowers

more than a little, they

pose no burning questions whatsoever

–just tick off index

before booking them into

Library Jail…

a bad ending, to say the least

a Page Purgatory populated

by career speed readers,

whose readout is overdue nevertheless

by textbook losers, bye

chronic book mark·ers, by

bloated pieces of work with

bad ink & dog earrings,

in the write ear

pretty much exclusively.

©Karen Robiscoe

Poker Tells

booksmall

stories need readers

–but reading’s not static…

the saga that’s sensed

depends on schematics,

since lines read

and minds read

are different in layout,

the reader in

need of

perception to say out—

–loud what the tale is,

the plot, and the premise,

though tea leaves

perceived

prefer pots & tempest,

and runes strewn

are no boon

without a clairvoyant,

as lined palms

want shaman

or else just annoyance…

while books and

the looks on–

–faces are altered,

by author

> of either <

not reader,

nor watcher,

since what’s

“loud and clear”

can act out a riot,

and “it” reads

like weeping,

if doubtful–just try it

yes, reed is the

~mouthpiece~

for writing on wall,

the fine print

bears squinting,

or don’t read at all.

©Karen Robiscoe

U say Windows → I say…Curtains!

Guise & Urls,

in webbish world,

is widely de rigeuer…

a jacket donned,

for prose & drawn,

for streamed-up caricature…

It’s good TV–

like news that bleeds,

like natural disaster,

’cause status quo

is just so slow,

and Internet is faster.

yes, Guise & Doss

are sugar floss

are airbrushed bytes

e-lucid’

a sweet that melts

unreal * unfelt

a Brand-o bettor muted…

It’s Vegas hair

piled up to

^there^

it’s meming, miming boxes–

to bump 2D,

3D extreme,

off-screen by way of phonics…

the Log•in my I


 
eye made a mistake, eye fixed
 
 
 
 
my spectacle

(s)

my Shade

(s)

my 3D vision

(s)

seeking to replace the write eye

that was log-jammed, and irksomely would•he

with rat pack finesse.

~the left I established long ago~

exchanging shattered glass

(still)

kaleidoscope colorful

& loupes

(still)

daring & dizzying

& faceted view

(still)

reflecting the million seen

(s)

for unsplintered lenses…

dangerously flimsy, but there were no contacts

fitting horn rims with

double convex,

rhinestone detail,

& tortoise shell

plus choke-chain lanyard,

& while this fresh outlook

is ordered…

or· gone ·eyes

is glaring in magnified detail…

is stylish, mirrored, & polarized…

like a blind man’s

is bi, tri, and my focal

exclusively

it’s shuttered my

3rd eye

in Coke bottle

goggles,

safe, but pointless

and

eye

can no longer

see.

©Karen Robiscoe

 

Nay’Fare’

shore ’nuff…

Pun (ish) Meant

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

I run with Edward Scissorhands

>>>>>

a paper without rock…

and Wet old Willie

makes me frilly

curling my card stock,

while timing out

< releases <<<<<

a second rule: 2

the grimace made

from glut & paste

sticks my face like

. glue .

I displace so well with

others

(though)

a spilling MILF in tears…

a bundled bunch

of out to lunch

a pretzel–side of fear.

©Karen Robiscoe

Another Name for Poesies