poem || Lawrence Upton

It don't mean a thing

to swing you have to cajole

automatically

heaps of shit sometimes

just

       sing

ground notes and difference

two sound pictures

making

             up to each other

both loud speakers

or two separate voices

or

     a voice and its echo

off a shiny wall

or a fart out your arse, uttering

forcefully

                misunderstanding

where you are

signaling zigzagging fascination

ideas

          relying on rhapsodic conversation

often the same and always fresh

till whatever’s combustible dies