She wrote contra – country – clocking in.
comes to the table now, drops
the wig of a gull on each lap, and null
into the table is scratched like a bottom in a pew.
The bald in the beret offers up her nest –
To burp and harp and attribute so little to myself!
Riding like a joke
around which pages are flapping wildly –
to the highest point of my interest – to the ball of the bald.
A crowd explodes from the vulture–
It swings to me, on purple floss, screaming
Marigolds and their drugs behind an ear
One must intend – but my eternity
is something else – too emotional, too alone with possibility –
jugging the eau d’lol, forgetting to say anything,
forgetting the birthright of every poem, right here – that birth is inevitable.
Taut Rope Alley
In the whiskered foray
of a clown a pearl sprout on the chin.
Now we are taut to examine GAIT, the alley test of temperament –
from the kneetops, twins stopping in the eyes of many shout
It will be “wide enough for two in love” –
twisting w/ holly out of intestinal pleasantries
And lips curled like the sea’s.
I am coming through the middle now, on the pietà spine, to leap the scalp of father to
of heaven above and below.
A nerve floods the goodhand pecked and stopped by a child of boils, crossed eyes
aspiring, all ways, alley-all.
The sun in a jumbo marshmallow rises:
“Tinteretto is baking,
his nostrils glow.”