{"id":2878,"date":"2017-02-20T20:09:27","date_gmt":"2017-02-20T20:09:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=2878"},"modified":"2017-02-23T14:15:18","modified_gmt":"2017-02-23T14:15:18","slug":"lindsay-mcleod-winter-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/lindsay-mcleod-winter-2017\/","title":{"rendered":"Lindsay McLeod, Winter 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"

EXCAPE<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A paradise drive thru,<\/span><\/p>\n

a hasty relationship <\/span><\/p>\n

with average accepted <\/span><\/p>\n

stumbling, for the sake <\/span><\/p>\n

of a desperate escape <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

she became <\/span><\/p>\n

the sorry nominee that <\/span><\/p>\n

lost her fragile parasol<\/span><\/p>\n

inside the folding wave.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But anon anon this <\/span><\/p>\n

servant\u2019s armour refused<\/span><\/p>\n

the gnawing rhythm when <\/span><\/p>\n

inside the corrupted divine <\/span><\/p>\n

she heard the critical comedy<\/span><\/p>\n

in commonsense come lately.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Picture that purposeful power.<\/span><\/p>\n

A release resolutely tiptoeing <\/span><\/p>\n

behind that clouded curtain to <\/span><\/p>\n

find a fortune\u2019s freedom unrehearsed.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The welcome departure relieving <\/span><\/p>\n

yet another unbelieving artificial<\/span><\/p>\n

sacrificial anniversary and sometimes, <\/span><\/p>\n

yes, just sometimes sweetheart, <\/span><\/p>\n

the grass really is greener.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ACCURS\u00c9D<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

If nothing is sacred<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

then I’m going to lie here<\/span><\/p>\n

and do absolutely nothing <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

while you mow the lawn <\/span><\/p>\n

like some kind of no good<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

god damned heretic.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

RESURRECTION MAN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve pleaded for amnesia,<\/span><\/p>\n

how many oftens the accumulated weight of my stuff has<\/span><\/p>\n

pushed against the closet door until its bursting forth <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

in a clumsy rush of breathtaking flame juggling memories,<\/span><\/p>\n

all lights flashing, siren songs blaring, that call for me <\/span><\/p>\n

to slide back into the tailgating peak hour slipstream <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

from my here (crucified upon the mast of my nowadays)<\/span><\/p>\n

where I reach with the fingers of \u00a0my left (behind) hand <\/span><\/p>\n

tongued by the licking flames of bright burning bridges,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

while I reach out with my (maybe everything will be<\/span><\/p>\n

all) right hand almosting the future that I can hear <\/span><\/p>\n

mutinous in the dark, but just a fingernail beyond<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

like trying to track the wing licks of a fugitive something<\/span><\/p>\n

through a sky without footprints for the favoured fruit <\/span><\/p>\n

hanging tall from the boughs of the Infinity Tree.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And sometimes, really, I would rather not,<\/span><\/p>\n

but oh, how I grow when I hope.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lindsay McLeod trips over the horizon every morning.\u00a0His poetry has recently found homes in <\/span><\/span><\/span>FIREFLY, THE FAT DAMSEL, BURNINGWORD, FIVE2ONE, MAD SWIRL, SICK LIT, LEAVES OF INK, ODDBALL, WORDS DANCE, QUAIL BELL, DRUNK MONKEYS, CORVUS, FOLIATE OAK, BIRD’S THUMB, FINE FLU, DASH, LITERARY NEST <\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>and<\/span><\/span><\/span> AMARYLLIS<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>. He currently writes on the sandy Southern edge of the world, where\u00a0he watches the sea and the sky wrestle for supremacy at his letterbox. He prefers to support the underdog. It is presently an each way bet.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

EXCAPE   A paradise drive thru, a hasty relationship with average accepted stumbling, for the sake of a desperate escape   she became the sorry nominee that lost her fragile parasol inside the folding wave.   But anon anon this servant\u2019s armour refused the gnawing rhythm when inside the corrupted divine she heard the critical […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2878","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nLindsay McLeod, Winter 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/lindsay-mcleod-winter-2017\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Lindsay McLeod, Winter 2017 - 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