The Poems of David Garlick
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 […]
Peddlers pecked persistently, among the lizard people. Periodically persistence pays off in, a plethora of pesos! Porque no? David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, February, 1998
The mildewed hour stank of discontent. Words rotted on damp page. Leaden thoughts sank in a swamp of self. Nostrils quivered in disgust and spoors smudged the clean. Bird feather thoughts rattled. Nerves jumped like fleas on a dank carpet of yesterday. Thick ugly air crawled. The ink line stopped where point pierced paper. […]
They’re leaving, one by one, those people, of my distant youth. I see the women then, in bright printed cotton. The men, bronzed by the desert sun, gleaming with youth and vigor. Now they slip away, leaving us the fewer. The keening wind blows – the dust and sand. Songs of days long gone. […]