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