They danced by the light of the moon

Back in March I posted a few lines of poetic prose on Facebook.  Nikki Magennis and Davina Geraghty helped me to make small changes to the language, to tighten it up.  I rather enjoyed the process of the communal edit.  Here's what we did:

Version 1

Evening soaking into the trees like broth into torn bread. Thickened air, like warm breath on a cool mirror. Magpie and Crow stream from the rushes, to the scandalized cries of the corvid community.

Version 2

Evening soaks into the trees like broth into torn bread. Thickened air, like warm breath on a cool mirror. Magpie and Crow rip from the rushes to the scandalized squalls of the corvid congregation.


So, this week I would like the help of you, Lear readers, to edit a new poem I'm working on.  All suggestions considered.  I am happy with the intentions behind the poem, it's the structure, rhythm, rhyme etc that I would like your help with please.  Ideally I would like to perform this at Lancaster on Friday. And so...


Poke Lear's Monster

Joy scribbles writhe in liminal puddles
Brutal and messy; compulsory corpses
Owl succumbs to Pussy Cat's splashes

Joy scribbles menace old watermills,
Harbours, cracked runcibles;
Metamorbid with their baggage of
Comments on Neo-Conservatives, loss
Or a childish compulsion:
Scab scoffing
Sand snacking
Glue grazing


Pica.  They call it pica.
Magpie.  Mudpie.
Picah-ah-ah-
Chew.

Bless You.