poetry || Peter Ganick

‘how am i to know?’ asks the singer
‘where is it you wander, ghost?’
a leading plebiscite
since entrance seizes delayed items

collecting hurdles with a summary
in radians interpreted as
camouflage with or without aspirin

so a word not inferior scuttles your
issues and be not betrayed by sparseness—
relinquish it tine by tine–

a debut for oceans-cites-
reality outside
somewhere comparatively
a residue from alacrity—
selfless amidst
clowns and fools

blanketed by nothingness once thanked
by rescuers eons later
the hiatus so intention light & overcome—some addenda
basic to entretemps foresting

traffic into a traditional operetta
whose connotations elicit merry
noema either self as sedimentation
or an elaborate singularity
assuring devotees of a stronghold
with vedanta’s mirror transcending—

an indexical format is defiant
thoughts are elsewhere—inventions
are gone asleep—footfalls tenacious
staring through denotation’s escalator

seeking to grouse
at returnable igloos
whose teacup’s a liaison

commissions for the earliest throw,
we name interludes of eternal usage
by rote without snarl or eclipse of theory
to those reifications whose modular certitude
decries a grail at noon
steering around sacks