"Lights Off"
a later "A" more walk than WALK
more blues than Muse—
if instinct or comedy delight,
this template tastes tart,
if two tales too sewn, it's
sooner personal; if leisurely leading
one another on so long,
uncross one
together is better
leather linking
sprinkling salt—
lock on it's honest
or taste the tend of how
we occupancy-center the Self,
left never in there where
hauling, walking, faulting
sure, she once bleached blonde
like doggerel laundry—
see me, my megrims mean
ever mental aware of mine or
my oh my mighty interior
eternal perpetual tensors
flexors—it's these
indecent occupations
she said, pure purulent
apparent disintegrating
instead into Pindaric
indeed, my dear, in spite
all this thought of scoff
in awe, it's still so soft,
this paw, this cough
this law "LIGHTS OFF"
previously published in Black Bread #4 (1994)
Copyright © Valerie Fox 2007 - 2011