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"The poet is a radio. The poet is a
liar. The poet is a
counterpunching radio."
-jack spicer
Testamount to a flutter
a peak of freedom havoc
the cauternization of what the who
in treble with rakes a horse
could balance. Sorghum urn
to waist, spat 'e & 'e did. The
h-h-h-absence of foedom led
each ear astray & other seats
empty your twinkle where an
eye shot belldammed & furysuckled
to a spate. Mac o' my dame
I fancied to mirror oblivious
to bartered ache. Sweet jazza
bell coast where the
swallow she plucks the tuning
feather whence the fountain once
in tweet caw tweet flanked sully.
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