The Poems of David Garlick
A cold and dreary place of peeling paint, cracked floors, the whisper of dust gathering and dark secrets. Damp wind through cracked windows, the cries of anguished souls echoing through a forest of bars. David Garlick, Alcatraz, San Francisco, October, 1997
Large soft eyes and sleek skins. Udders quiver pleasantly. Hips swing. Ponderous minds. Rhythmic jaw movements; sliding and rolling; occasional bubbles! How cow-like gum chewers are. David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, March, 1998
A river quietly, tiny shining mirrors of times ago. Silent trees listen, hearing laughter long gone from ears. Memories hang webs dewed with tears, wafted with gaiety. Shadows in a forest, planted for war, harvest of peace. David Garlick, Brokenhurst, England, October, 1996
From further up the beach they looked like stranded whales. Closer, I could see their northern pallor’s pinking to the sun. Quivering, hairy bellies and ripe bosoms bursting bikinis. The scent of cheap sun blocks soothing consciences. They almost sizzle, basking in the sun’s violent smile. Hot dogs on concession rollers, waiting for bun […]