Thursday, December 15, 2011

coiled about in copper spins

Arbitration is a tire iron twisted

is wrenched like flashlight through prism-glass
is a science experiment cut in thin layers and drip-soaked in formaldahyde
and on display like a caged crawling man covered in fur faking
a tiger too pathetic to be turned out when the rot set in
and where are his teeth?  Turned out by the hard thrusts of compromise
splintered in bone-wheel brackets from iron torque
and on the tip of the tongue a screw to tighten
each night another half tone towards slyence

is it quiet or simply supersonic a hard frequencing quivering
out and above the range of my lemur ear, my codfish eye, what
is this empty socket spun full of gray-matter skeins till not a spot
of light can be left

right down the center, strike an axe, strike an axe and crack the glass watch the beads of perspiration
and blood bustle in cosmopolitan minglings across the face of your emergency

the color of your right eye, when it is alone in the dark.