Earsight
why cracky spread why
nest of gizzards swirled
beneath my chair was that the
soup drain ?my clinking ear dog
my loose gum my ,desk floating
in the afternoon its drawer of
turds and smoke .so I was
coughing ,buey ,lomismo mas la
nada ,cogote rugoso y mi
lado futril )ventana y dineral(
comidas ,clacking ,clocking my
skull’s needled vapor rising
from tjhe buried cave ;my
eye frogs there ,melting to
ward the sky
Could It Be?
date of throttling storm faced
of cracky off plat e crashe d
.numb or listing I ,hammed my
corn and ,slack gunts ,pestle
foaming o’er ,ah the cloud
black against the door !my
peel suit drains )clickly(
stunned the gut lack plowing
suits’ splash lens ,snore
pane and spiders )“fate or”(
dropped the form’s ,pace f
older an pinching a loaf .a quest
ion stung a nodder lapsed a
glowing in the aftershirt
Contents
shirt contains the shirt
contains the slumber light
spit contains the spit
contains the crawling door
wind contains the wind
contains the nail constrained
hamster contains the hamster
contains the closet breath
moth contains the moth
contains inhaler of the rain
lint contains the lint
contains the curtains of your skin
suit contains the suit
contains the meatloaf’s moldy liver
hair contains the hair
contains the swallowed laundry
ash contains the ash con
tainer’s clattering down the steps
Rex
next the lung next
the stinky bunny
next the clock next
the floating shadow
next the slug next
the thumping earlobe
next the sock next
the cadera pluviosa
next the ladder next
the temple crater
next the flock next
the dribbling thumb
next the headache next
the rotting leg
next the cheese next
the swallowed faucet
next the tongue next
the bloody sugar
next the next next
the flaccid nexus
next the neck
Huh Huh
my soap shoulder your
clod empty my
stumbler shine your
coughing shirt my
user glut your
foamy puzzle my
chatter blink your
clod rinser my
apt tooler your
slot nevers my
dunking handle your
fog rinses my
sot removal your
undies soup my
clogged lintrap your
gut number my
dragged instance your
lumpy lengua my
texts that change the conscious parameters of literature, both for readers and writers. from a different angle than these, r.p. blackmur adds: 'poetry: [is] ...language so twisted and posed in a form that...it adds to the stock of available reality.' formerly edited by peter ganick. send texts to Volodymyr Bilyk at ex.ex.lit@gmail.com for consideration...
Saturday, April 30, 2011
poems || John M. Bennett
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