Clutter

She was clumsy.

She forgot other people could not

tell right away.

And, so, she had raced in and embarrassed herself with a bit too much gusto.

Or, so she assumed.

She wanted him to take her dancing where real players made analogue music in a room where people were still allowed to smoke. It would be loud. It would be crowded. And, their lungs would hurt the next day.

“Sing into my mouth.”

That’s what she didn’t say. But, she thought it.

“Did you really just ask that of me?” asks the voice of consternation. Her version of Jimney Crickett.

“How would you know ferocious?”

“Perhaps you have not prompted the ferocity in my nature.”

“Hum. It is there. Abiding patiently with a kind smile. To imagine requires a capacity for imagination.”

“Provocateur.”

“Hago lo que puedo.”

“You can’t always say what you mean!”

Matter is the matières of the matieres.

The contents of the materials.

Water, no ice.

I seat you.

I put down

Menu/s.

Menues.

minutes of

minute

minuettes

A fun dance, perhaps,

Menuet?

<>

Your food arrives.

You chew and

Swallow it into your

hollow.

Hallow and also

a shallow wallow.

Low halls, and(,) walls.

<>

Allow

how many commas in the Oxford Comma?

Coma correction.

<>

Your indignity makes me indignant.

Indigestion is caused by digestion but not

by the undigestable.

Belligerent B’s

break

bread.

[tread the thread]

breadth read, dear.

red

breath. rath. dare tar he/r.

breathe bare, bear.

here

hear

her beat- tab.

hearth- the heart,

ear at the earth.

<⊙>

heat herb tea. bard art. he

bathed at

Bath.

bather: hare; bat; rat.

rate brat hate

[TARE]

Hardware Store

I stopped by.

The lady at the register compliments my manners.

“I am from the South,” I say.

“I know that,” she says.

[Shrug]

She says: I don’t believe in tearing down statues.

I intuit that she is okay with the tearing down of statutes.

No one thinks they are the baddies: I proffer.

A Brief Attunement

A car sounds like

a breeze.

A sneeze of leaves

through the noses of

trees.

A quickly pealing pair of

tiring tyres.

Screeching steeple

belles.

Hark or hail.

Who goes there?


Conceal to reveal

weal

Twenty spokes

of the wheel may not

be a’woke;

But, daydreaming

Night-mares

whom you may ride

Up-on.

Tripping your shores of

not-here

nor their’s

Ewer’s.


The center can still hold

or ready, steady, go.

Despite the

quicken-

ingpen hares.


Ewe

turn on cloven toes,

split like the tongues of

Snarling snakes.

Smooth as slick.

Bare, like

plucked

Gnus.

Aria for the ballerino.


[Dreams of the alpaca hotel by the bay].

[Fables of worm farming, chain letter writers].