CLEAT lassoed, I tie up the skiff,
BLESS the water, bless the land, bless
TODAY. Here’s to the slowness, to the
CONCH on the beach, to the sun, to a taste of Eden unbarred.
Month: February 2023
Reshaping
FLUTE of wine in my fingertips,
FOLIO spread on my knees; musing,
LEACHing inane words from
PROSE; reshaping it into poetry
2023-02-19 words
CLEAT, BLESS, TODAY, CONCH
End of play
I take out my secondhand FLUTE
to play the fifth piece from my father’s FOLIO.
His cantankerous, expository PROSE
LEACHes from the page, putting me off.
The Birth of Prose
PROSE, epiphenomenal to writing and records of writing,
LEACHing some of words’ power: words need no longer sing in memory.
FLUTE’s melodic line, soaring, embellished, singular to the mind, vs.
FOLIO, numbered pages, going on, long form, the certainty of an archive replacing song.
2023-02-18 words
PROSE, LEACH, FLUTE, FOLIO
Butch and Sundance
CLIFF edge suddenly yawns,
FREAK out for 10 seconds,
MOUTH tastes metal: chase and panic,
TROOP is 3 minutes back. The logic of the jump emerges.
2023-02-17 words
CLIFF, FREAK, MOUTH, TROOP
The Gift
CLEATus doesn’t like his name, doesn’t like the spelling: both a
CHUNK of unquellable frustration. Yet, there is also his resplendent gift:
SNARE drum, kick drum, he’s a genius of percussion. When his hands are whirling, in
TURBO mode, he takes a kind of flight, borne up by sound, by forging time, by transport, by wonder.
Impending Disaster
CLEAT has unnoticed
CHUNK of grass, a soon to be
SNARE to the striker in
TURBO mode.