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Miles Champion




Was there nothing else
to make silk from
thought the last spider
rather uncomfortably

The horse you are looking for
already have go. What do
these pebbles tell us Chen,
which road did it take

Anita’s eliminating guesswork
Chen thinks, the eunuch
when bamboo features
a chased look

The horse felt cool
to his legs and hips. Invent enemy
space travel desirable?
Let me go for bridge

Stopped morning full rubber
Chen installed better
and Lipstick was his crooked she
(Anita) circled partly in skies

Tattooing a mean mask
with golden bits
the sun played against the side
of a falling tobacco leaf

Shots of animal colour
rotated Lipstick wet glass
perched on left-hand top shelf
the target

Target-breasted enlarged
and correlated species, types
took off, the peacock’s feather
swatted a friendly face

Weak food bullets hungered
a monk appeared and disrobed
in saffron did Chen,
the handler, appear

Made keeping elaborate hard
a nickel-plated toga
a cheap bunch of horseshoes
mint prison stripes are inside of

Safely held the disturbed rain
hat in season mixed and poured
another hand to take her
winter balm and coat essence

A tooled cistern
checks were nothing
might be all they need but
no fist had drawn breath

Her meal simply plucked Anita
fixed Lipstick, content as well
with the so-called westmaking

Chen cocked
Anita plucked
his outstretched baton
with credit

Admitting his price when
hills filled with
a Spanish hoard dug
the helmet’s crest—fish scales on a Buddhist

Already immersed
to the tops of
gesticulating skyward, Chen dipped
his inner pilot in silence

Uncommunicative men
spelled out the words—
he captivates
ordinary swimmers

Chen sold the
palm tree sketch
his aquatic sculptures

Amid a salad of
wilder capable sunsets
and a toothpick
fashioned into darkness

Patch buoy spared
leak die toss
one upset oar
came tap-tapping, thirsty

Out ripe hunger
got a free throw
but mistook the sea-chance,
and green-throated a segment

Totally tropical
a drank summer thing
galloped needing
no brakes, for coffee

And stashed a fair balance
under the overhang
a stiff headpiece
dis-treed, a roof joist

Anita coughed
she didn’t sneeze
but patted flower droppings to show
she’d port-holed a signal

Chen sleeps,
nice cover
such that he drew his own
blood with six Lipsticks

Two were stuck with cloves
Chen switched off his nose
and parked between blows
his refills out for Anita

The sneak tidal rose
eight feet
in length, like a sacred
prosthetic fin

His Lipstick, Anita
astride the anima
they’ll feel the dark build
across tepid windows
first thing

MILES CHAMPION’s books include Compositional Bonbons Placate, Sore Models and Three Bell Zero. His recent poems were published as issues of I Saw Johnny Yesterday and Tolling Elves. A chapbook, Six of One, is in the works from A Rest Press, and a new collection is forthcoming from Adventures in Poetry in 2007.

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Related article in The Sienese Shredder #3
Nine Poets edited by Miles Champion

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