Sunday, August 28, 2011

poem || Jeff Harrison

The Blind Horse Holds Forth

shrewd
oil-lamps
envious of
sanitary wonders
most patriotisms
deemed glass


YET DEY


whisked
mysterious
throats,
in those
lay stomachs
lay there
mother's
maw excitement


foot of
plenteous feet
inching to
get out
a mouthful


each


exposed ( nb )
invisible
shuffling another
attention reflex
"Blossoms are
craning frowns"


{nb: next stanza,
or whathaveyou,
is even MORE
attached to the
following stanza
than prior stanzas}


the fixed rigging
lifting, tired,
between rhythms

No comments:

Post a Comment