Christopher Barnes’ first collection LOVEBITES is published by Chanticleer. Each year he reads at Poetry Scotland’s Callender Poetry Weekend. He also writes art criticism which has been published in Peel and Combustus magazines.
“Putting You Through Now. Caller.” (26)
“Why did Tapsell bean-spill?
If you eyeful him again – in the flesh…
Smiling in a low-cunning mask –
Yo0ho out to the cab.”
“My paradise has its quicksand.”
That gambit is to move, and course.”
“Putting You Through Now, Caller.” (27)
“The latest wrinkle should’ve phantomed.
A dust-cloud of sales talk
Might get inauspicious.
Need you furthest – unhooked,
“Same write-off as usual?
Booth you from the motel.”
“Putting You Through Now, Caller.” (28)
“Loretta’s hurling gowns around The Manhattan.
Shall I ad-lib?
The idiot box is regulation low-profile,
A bowtie aerial gin-sticky.
She urged the .45 onto the table.”
“At times I dread spilled beans
To a pitapat of the network’s jingles.”
"Putting You Through Now, Caller.” (29)
“Two floor-to-ceiling doors pounced slack.
McKissack belly-busted through, wheezing.
I larruped his mug.
Sundown went pasty.
Even traffic cowed, apoplectic.”
“His ol’ lady’ll be hosannaing for ministry
To all the gangland dead.”
"Putting You Through Now, Caller.” (30)
Haemoglobin drizzled into an embittered pavement.
I sloughed my jerkin off.
Even nettles broke sweat.
We liberated the MG.
Does the chit mean squit to you?
What was the kitty moving for?”
“It reeked of Turkish unfiltered
And prickly hope.”