Saturday, October 1, 2016

Grammars/Joel Chace

scratch it right up there  --
so lost in the aggregate  --
whimsy is back, right?

what’s in your wallet?  --
fungus underneath the floor  --
pitched a perfect game

weep for poor bodies  --
that wood was expertly carved  --
delicate but firm

precipice of wrath  --
more coverage than ever  --
clockwork makes its move

one and little two   --
village bells never on time  --
bile seeps its way down

serrated paper  --
long light reaches her brown hair  --
each error, noted

motion sickness map  --
prudish silver, walls, faces  --
we’re a fake kingdom

polynomials  --
in these days, we pull knowledge  --
five crows make a line

avuncular speech  --
in a cavern; in a mine  --
they’d hog all grammars

vocal chords, tongues, lips  --
lantern in a long leaf pine  --
that’s not the right switch

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