poetix

this time for sure

Half Cocks: 0-8-9-8 50! 50! 50!

AND NOW, THIS; as if there could

have been some other thing:

erotic stuffing, say, or the ever-

flagrant aura of elect belonging.

Here’s wishing you delivery

into safer hands, or to some

undreamt-of reparation, compulsion’s stutter

relapsing into rhythm, even the words

of expectation unscrambling as you speak.