Friday, February 6, 2015

the drifted tavern

m ourning f lood my ran
cid loot and sweat p olarity
pit ched from the a cid boat a
mmufffled spsplash drowns the
headlights d azzled corn field
s tirred by whwhirling crows sh
apeless sky luminescent serif
on the watery skull the ROARRR
RRRRRR fish language itches in
yr neck made of flight and
wounds the vanished sounds yr
throat reforms ,trash re
fused ,mud boiling on the hill
name dirt doubted on the dri
bbling mirror your fever chain your
wheel in constant dust and e
lectric oils scratching in some
hummocks rutting in the pines
in the flaming boot cocoons
,or books heated in your spinal
street I saw the ot her saw the gl ass
st one saw the ri ver f all into a cave

3 voices: John M. Bennett; Jim Leftwich's
Six Months Aint No Sentence, Book 103, 2015;
& Ivan Argüelles' “alterumswissenchaft vii”, 2015


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home