Basilike Pappa, How Demons Get Their Wings

It feels great to be Dodging the Rain again

DODGING THE RAIN

HOW DEMONS GET THEIR WINGS

Here comes streetlight
and me again

a lover’s cheap charms
all over her diary

ambrosial language
for naked game

erogenous trust
her throat moans deeper

my sliver of smile
how can she know

true love cuts
red is a singer

in vocal cords
to stain her dress

death is a river
to wash her away

my knife is fed
I feel them grow

Basilike Pappa is a bookmonger and a wordcubine. Her work has appeared on Intrinsick, Timeless Tales, Rat’s Ass Review, Surreal Poetics, Bones – Journal for Contemporary Haiku, Sonic Boom, and Visual Verse. She is a member of Sudden Denouement – A Global Divergent Literary Collective. Most of the time she can be found reading near a window in Greece.

You can read more of Basilike’s work here, and on her blog Silent Hour.

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Basilike Pappa, As Rain Inside The Brain

Proud to be on Dodging The Rain today. Thank you, Neil Slevin!

DODGING THE RAIN

MELINDA’S LONG SCARF SYNDROME

Melinda stores memories inside chickens – uncaring birds.
Buys groceries.
Eats. Cleans. Makes a cup of tea.
Sitting by her window she knits long scarves. Hobbies are a good thing.
It all feels like calling home and speaking in a foreign accent, or like a strange cat sitting on her armchair.

Melinda used to have her rooms full of nightingales. Sometimes she flashed them at people. Well, she is only human.
But counting nightingales before they sing all their songs is a cheater.

It comes as a missed train, as rain inside the brain; as unequal exchange, torn page, minimum wage. It comes as derealization, depersonalization, as minding the gap but still getting your foot stuck in it; as varicose vein, chest pain, not so sweet martha lorraine. It comes as blue, to paint blue the heart; as human factor, x-factor, max factor. It comes as…

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Watch – Basilike Pappa

Today I’m on Free Verse Revolution.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

That emotionless tick,

that tack, like a wink,

I nailed you to a wall

but couldn’t keep you

Always that tack,

that same tick,

I wrapped you around my wrist

but couldn’t hold you

I clicked my tongue out of rhythm

danced off beat

sang out of tune

to confuse you,

but you always keep an eye against me.

I took a screwdriver to you

to untick your tack, untack your tick

I ripped you open

but couldn’t kill you.

That tick, unquestioning,

and tack unrelenting

what will you gain from my ending?


Basilike Pappa is a bookmonger and a wordcubine. She believes that in poetry an image must montage the mind with false cognates, and that god is sun on a copper coffee pot. Her prose has appeared in Life & Art Magazine, Intrinsick and Timeless Tales, and her poetry in Rat’s Ass Review, Surreal Poetics

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Wonderstance – Basilike Pappa

My latest on Sudden Denouement.

Sudden Denouement Collective

Winter in radio frequencies

his mad orchestra

the pale state of heaven

Sluggish days / cemeteries  

for pencils – broken  

Are you upset? Walk often

Until communication returns

sleep wake attack escape

social shadowplay

Feed yourself:

the kitchen knife

gleam of the underworld

Windows are reflection / also inspection

But if I fly through them – broken

(as long as they’re not open)

Anathema to insect screens:

instead of sticky tape,

with nails to the frames are attached

See?

Afterlife does nothing on a whim –

follows protocols

Resurrect somebody or make a replica – do it fast

When I repair myself

in the green and gallant spring

when birds do sing

the pine-wood grows alive with wings

face rentals suffer much

my scarves

my boots

my coats

my gloves

will go through

a mild case

of wonderstance


Borrowed Lines

In the green and gallant spring: In the…

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