Poetry

Up The Mountain

On Monday Joan and I
sat bitten on Blai

between castle shade
and the neon lit mill. 

Rattle drained glasses
gulped pintxos

and grins.

Qué rico!

We made for the tube lights

subterranean bookstall

up the mountain
frozen suburbs.

Tens Foc?

Yellow ribbon smile
below grey bouffant
atop cream jacket,
an offered flame

by the monastery
near somewhere
I often used to be
and left for France

without knowing.

Where we met. 

Say-day-eray
Republica, Ara

Fora les forces 

d'ocupació

circles

and iced hands

raised and shaken

Like autumn in Paris

spring in Athens had been.
A broiling June
in Rostock 

Ajuntament 

a zebra stripe of letters in bold.

LLIBERTAT PRESOS POLITICS

SPOTLIGHT 

plummet thud woken
from evening daydreams                         

                         ¡Viva el Rey!
                        ¡Viva Cristo el Rey!
                        ¡Arriba España!
                        ¡La alcadesa a prisión!

clickclack

record
brittle egos

blade keen

tailor cuts
and toddling ultras

their willing.

James Roberts