where lands folded
under this double
chin this thirst
whetted this braided
flim flam tilting
over the tongues of
leaves swiveling
an unhinged jaw
to devour even
the abrasive harp
please, PIANO
second violins
where are the sighs
of babies
the rubbing legged
whispers of grassy lovers
this copper tube
placed before my ears
this trickery sentiment
absolved in
a stiff breeze
this disparate man
balding to direct
vibrations of air
forgetting art
is tame because
we give it walls
and will not
share it with a
sp- u – t –t e - r or a
cough this wrist slitter
those gurgles of language
that stained glass mangled
shielded by its own
undoing.
by Robert Jameson
