Bone Scan

by Stuart Barnes

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Tritina after Satre

by Stuart Barnes

There are far worse things than being
raped. Countess Judas’ kiss and
Earl Thomas’ doubt. Nothingness

unpursing lips, spit of nothingness
in the eye. All other things being
equal. Noosa’s gnarled nooses and

the ecru car’s everlastingness and
the fuss and the fuss about nothingness.
The conjunction of nothingness and being.

Being’s snarled attics and static of nothingness.

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Bone Scan

by Stuart Barnes

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For eyes that shine (a cutup using text from Adrian Plass’ Silences and Nonsenses: Collected Poetry, Doggerel, and Whimsy)

by Stuart Barnes

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In The Navy

by Stuart Barnes

In the Navy

i.m. Stuart Addison, Stephen Bebbington, Jake Casey, Brett Dwyer, Ewen McDonald

I’m hung by my feet over the stern;

the propellor’s a sort of halo,

my heels Morse hell’s unfeelingness,

the boatswains’ eyes are clogged with ice.

The propellor’s a sort of halo

I must serve, must serve, must serve.

The boatswain’s eyes are clogged with ice

when I’m felled while mopping the deck.

I must serve, must serve, must serve,

water and food withheld.

When I’m felled while mopping the deck

my ungloved hands purple.

Water and food withheld,

my tongue swells and dries, vessels burst.

My ungloved hands purple

while hallucinating Jack Ketch,

my tongue swells and dries, vessels burst.

I’m hung by my feet over the stern;

while hallucinating Jack Ketch

my heels Morse hell’s unfeelingness.

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