2.


Sing the swinging pendulums, lit kerosene refracted by green glass.
Flickered light bulbs flip the fat falsetto frets of touch,

And elbows grind down figures in the strychnine swing of hips.
Dukes put up for damsels pop up ping pong balls in chivalry.

Do muscles reenact the pinprick centuries of asteroids
as drunks gloss glissando in repentant glossolalia at the bar?

Will burlesque antipodes fly into the fairgrounds of the statuesque?
Is there one more hour to philosophize on incomplete confession?

A thousand legal clauses in the light box of three honey cigarettes,
The eyes of ghosts unseen in forest fires projecting jerky spurts

Of fitful dying batteries, an acidic Morse code of the penitent,
Mantras sleep on living lips, the white caps of a hectic faith.
bienvenu_3.html