Saturday, November 26, 2011

poem || John M. Bennett

SOON


nope the plunger cor ah
nek id lap pretender
fog ~ my nates an loo
ming lungch !)the cap
raised a coatl ~comes t
he runny crowd the
streaking ~ smoke ,bullhorns
<< •••• yr knot frying
in my └eg ,,, I named
a moth smeared on
wa//

tower where the stones
rained ●● down the win
dow in my thigh □ your
tongue ┼▓ retraction tubes
clattering in the gu
tter I bared my n
eck clock off swam ≈
“la isolaci├│n nombrada”
es mi pierna izquierda do
nde el cielo se revela
finito

“...le cortaron la lengua tronada”

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