Poems

The View from which We Are Leaking

"One day I woke, craving this stark hallucination"

is never a sentence strolling in Kyrie's blue suit.

Snowbanks of sundials (sn wb nks f s nd ls)

waver like flocks upon the asphalt of having written,

deriving meaning simultaneous to-- INK till it blurs.

"Come in," she sd. "Come in. This shop is for the living."

(This shop is for the living?!) Lacunae sift & sort,

institutionalized by bets in dark, Soweto neighborhoods.

Natives shotgun (sh tg n) the maestro (m str )

shotgun the colonials ( o o ia ) ding'd (d ng'd) by satellites

of tire-flung stones. Otherwise the seizures are real (r l).

If we hang with the Goths, we must die in the middle,

in public & on camera. UFOs are how earthlings must deal,

contagious as language ( a ua e) in cinders of sleep.

[Type the coded sequence in-- the small iguana flits

thru terrible space (sp c ) improvising words of fluent

Richter (R cht r) Scale (Sc l ).] In hymns, I can't disperse

this dastardly crowd (cr wd). Night considers the sitar:

I am the sun (_o_) & the heir (ai_) pleated with sound.

One leaking blood from a volume or page mistakes the

view ( ie ) from which he, she, or it, is leaking.

 

 

Paranormal Woman #10

If what she's bounty for

falls down out of knees

then organs shall peal

all dozing like musers.

 

If what she's amidst

5th Avenue can't scumble

her belfries shall fire

singed & vulcanizing.

 

If what she's shanty for

is sixth of a rumor

leaps deafer than hunger

then nexus shall platter.

 

If angst is her diary

snapped off in the bath

then Goethe is Dante

tarped in pleine air.

 

If Donatello's her email

scrapped by a nymph

then she is Olympia

reclining sur l'herbe.

 

If cousins send kisses

she wakes to carnations

dangled like views

of olde pewter bullets.

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