Monday, October 29, 2012

mechanics of speech


Onomatopoetic name graces
a childhood affliction, if affliction
it is.  Betrayed at the hands of the tongue,

longing to lash out, roll ball lightning vowels
around in my mouth and feel the stitching
abrade my lips, bite off die cast ingot

consonants, debride them, gnash their cunning
angles and curves into hot lead and spray
belts of bullets in staccato patterns,

laying down a field of fire where I’ll
stand and let the wind blow through rib and strut,
whistling through old gaps in the armature. 

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