Keith Nunes

Ex post facto
I’ll meet 
u where
I dropped 
u once
u say 
ur there

Riptide of restlessness

Waffled feelings of dreary morning after sprightly night,
Framework of body languishing in humid air of sea spray, 
Look of scared sacred crow perched on weary banister 
Wanting/not wanting clarity of propitious day-start, 
Fear of falter, slimness of future design, plagued by pins
Of pointed doubt, and worse, irresistible desire for Minatorial 
Decadence, sharpened by rough edge of early onset loss of mind

The Palmer Prize people were not happy

The Peter Palmer Poetry Prize people said my entry was not up to the 
level, of say, the other 18,000 entries, and
That my poem was considered the worst submission they’d received in the 100 
years of running the competition,
The chief judge requested organisers blacklist me from entering again, to save 
them from the deep anxiety and unmanageable horror when confronted with 
my appalling efforts,
Furthermore, the chief organiser said he was considering initiating a civil suit 
against me for trauma and aggravated emotional assault,
I’d been warned,
I entered the following year and was ‘served’, and word was that the prize 
people had hired an East European assassin to bring my harassment to a 
definitive end,
A near-death experience being the topic of my next prize entry

Keith Nunes (Aotearoa NZ) has words and visuals published in various parts of the globe. He creates in a bid to wave away insanity.
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