14.

Armitage stands
thickly in a light
rubbing its great and electric back
across Alexei Karamazov

in a tradition of short lines(
these trees have grown
wantonly through
thinks he, though

the troughs of shallow days
fountain in animistic rain).
It ain't meekness, nor stupidity
pits itself against itself, flush with

sequences of truth, unquenching
us, and the time you thought I

could trumpet, I could be a peasant's
sleeve. There are days Armitage
clocks his heartbeat, days in which
the skin of dreams muffles the hydraulics.

8/12/03





=====


NEW!!!–Dirty Milk–reactive poem for microphone http://www.lewislacook.com/DirtyMilk/

http://www.lewislacook.com/

tubulence artist studio: http://turbulence.org/studios/lacook/index.html








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