by Robert Gross
The power of air
in the thicket of a shrouded thought
the redemption of the world
through water and forgetting
the oven has gone out
the ashcan has fallen
The power of a coin
in the street—a godlike boulder
the redemption of the world
through stain and stupefaction
the key chain snaps
the small talk scatters
At the start it was all
teapots and doilies
the proper parson’s parlor
all potpourri
and phillipians
the kettle wheezed
and it ruptured
shattering the wedgewood
driving the flock
gibbering into jivey dialectics
The power of sleaze
in the scramble up the stairs
the redemption of the world
through rock crystal and rot
the mutation of alien thoughts
in bed and boardroom
What is the dance for
dry rot and distance
the wordless weeping wobble
all chainlink
and charleston
the jeté freezes
at the jolt of a jeremiad
the blindfolded danseur caught
between barre and backroom
arabesques
in sharp-ribbed panic
The power of grief
in the remaking of manifestos
the redemption of the world
through whirlwind and wisecrack
the tea cosy is split
the thoroughfare has become a thicket
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment