[8301 – 8400]
Those ineffable suns, that crackling out
of the surly blouse of the Southeast chafe
inscrutable Halifax & absorb
its hazy draughts, that meditate upon
its arable but unbearable nucleus
of disciplined enlightenment before
vanishing in a fickle secession
from kingly courtship & consistently
oblong completeness, that then switch back from
fir to primrose—oughtn’t they be bothered,
as I am bothered, by dejection, by this
unprecedented sabre of indictment,
by these scissors of stupor & retribution?
[7601 – 7700]
Sagacious, inexperienced, downcast
bent over the archives of a stalwart
witchcraft, weaving a Breton tapestry
out of woollen yarn & conveniently
pompous appellation, Mia unlocked
injunction from its subterranean
illegal sandstone compartment beneath
a Brooklyn sidewalk. It smelt of sulphur
of gunpowder, like a brace of onion
or congress of manure. Restlessness is
a tumultuous barbarian, a
timely lunatic, tracing nuisance from
its whereabouts among the firmament
to an attic nook in the closet
[6301 – 6400]
From bachelor to bridegroom, his fondness
for Sophia was no affectation.
As he sez in his diary, “No mere
bluff, her sagacity would dwarf a Montague.
Her temperate mien as chaste an offense
[sic] as filthy cigars in the winged
puzzle of diversion.” As they, so we.
We mourn each elementary unit of
fearless utility, each inference
of olive, rusty with a tint of dal.
We un-cork the burgundy & sneer. We
vanish, convicted, as in the fable of Mabel
& her sweetheart, Otto, & marshal all
against the appalling rats of Amsterdam.
[5901 – 6000]
How joyful, Antonio, to crash
an elephant into Jupiter! To barrel
energetic through majestic Quebec.
Amazing to have tasted the courteous
displeasure of revolutionary
Milan & salute the repetition
of palaces & thieves. How fortunate
for swimming trunks & democratic im-
provements, that warlike Edgar choked down
repentance, his lungs decorated with
tranquil lays of granite & ivory.
How, unexpectedly, then, will she impress
a needle or compel a fold, & detach
herself aloft, away from mute torment.
[22101 – 22200]
Heavy-hearted & auricular, her
etymologies spank with gristle the
lorgnette sternum of the islander,
Carabao. “Ugh,” sortes he, at the uncalled-for
jab, his kinetic masculinity undiluted.
How pleasingly shaped is this trickster,
Melancholia, her acrobatic
mammalian periodicity, her
mementoes that unwind & inveigh
suchlike disjunction, & then suture, cupped
& disorganised, a grapevine of cluck &
fleck. “Yah, my sumptuary tadpole, my
cup-bearer, my dogcart, why girder this
lying-in? Why stereotype this searing
nova with coronal beeswax?”
[4301 – 4400]
Phil & Allen, Caroline & Allah
acquire a lantern factory, casting
the vexed sadness of candles under the
carpet. Honestly, how beautifully they
blaze from the ceiling in the parlor, their
mirth spreading wildly across the lawn
by the pool at dusk, winning glances of
intimacy akin to what woke the goddess
from piety. But aren’t we forgetting
the treachery that dresses attraction,
the organs that beef up the soup, the wolf
in the architecture, the ceremonies
of sovereignty that successively mask
an alternate network of corruption?
[21901 – 22000]
Sisyphus overslept, then moped about
cyberspace only to liquidate the
database. Perspire as he may, he still
outran his coverage. “Calliope, turnover!
Your pokes paralyze.” Ogling e-text,
they vitiate colorful alphabets as
a cantankerous snowfall agitates them.
Buckshot & incandescence whittle options.
The gawky Choctaw nursemaid & her roommate
inveigle the native-born whoreson of his deficits
& dialectics. They, too, seethe as they crumple
the tricolor. Or was it croupier the coupon?
The cornea? Mollusk? Molar? Scutcheon?
First published: Spirits Arts Literary Magazine. Clint Wadsworth, ed.
(Spring 2010): 10. Print.
[3601 – 3700]
Pot stirring, thirst bending, & threatening
excess, Juan danced at one of our thirteen
fortnightly Friday meetings, solemnly
in consolation, hideous to his foes,
all dumb sweetness to his niece, Clara, with
everyone shaken from smallest to strongest,
clothed in a tight scarlet shirt waist, his guarded
tribute to the rocky sweep of Portuguese
mothers, sinking down holes where the unjust
mob transcribe crimson prose into blank virus.
Therefore, whip up from your sofa, mount
the ridge over the creek, convert your
notions, relieve your periodic disgust,
bargain with your impressions, & accomplish
[1101 – 1200]
We watched as sad proud ships spread opposite
to where sin lies aside twelve forgotten
mountains, knowing fancy clothes promised vast
hearts, & possessed curious importance. You
judge, rate, taste, marry the gentleman, trade
greatly for decided, search ordinary
for glory. Ideas? Yes! Serve ‘em up Captain!
Working anxious powers into feelings
of iron, altogether distant, altogether
pure. When liberty sides with building
progress to prove what’s accepted, I’m marked
for finished! Foreign weeks besides, & a dry
neck of evidence. Interesting advantage.
The bill finally came, pieces clearly priced.
Jesus, Peter, isn’t the wine excellent?
First published: The Citron Review. Jacqui Morton, ed. Fall 2013. Web. https://citronreview.com/tag/at-the-musarium-18/
[13901 – 14000]
On the bus to Babel, Günter was stringent,
cruising a blur, accommodating at bedtime,
but despondent: manna, wreckage, rib fracture—
What platonic atheist wharves his nickel
so figuratively? Xerxes glimmered Ceres
in her vestry. Alf & Ste Arcadia lurk
khaki & penitentiary. Is this permissible?
Indiscriminate exhilaration? Ailing ventilation?
Vitals & valuables, though voluble,
impair hallucination. Aborigines mayn’t
spindle here! Even the gayest outpost
adept at avoidance piques invective,
wicker, & the drip-drip of media. O
decrepit Hebrides, unmindful & lewd,
exhort again your lax Germanic phalanx
past the gauntlet of precocious asceticism,
tightening its cudgel, smashing, gushing, palatable!
First published: Danse Macabre. Adam Henry Carriere, ed. (July 2009). Web.