Friday, August 25, 2006

On the fly . . .

I've been revising poems. This one started with line breaks which I completely obliterated like the Death Star:


As in rope. A filament, thick or frayed.


Frame the neck of the lynched. Hold—bare. Hang and snare. Drag lace against pavement. Hear fiber split, the pith of the hemp long since dried. Hear the noose crackle.


The staccato of a jump rope’s skit-skit-skit. Shoes up, then down, then up again. O stutter my heart. The fibers spin, touch, and spin again.

Hum and arc.


How do you say it? Open your mouth as one receiving water. Then explode, the mouth filled with air, then released. Press your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Exhale.

How do you say it? Open your mouth. Pull the breath by each syllable.


I am a decadent boat. That I should succumb to you, wavelet, I fear. Tie me to the dock. Tether me.

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