western rattle
finish, lie dead on the sorrow bed. stiff and related
to your furrowed, underlined, intention . . .
shit there, with the injected vellum that seeks
your heart. from machine with this Wake, this egg
frost beacon on the SHORE — you, Wane, U.S., Wane
itches on piled money spent, tiny boil. Seem, THEN
your crucified microscope, shimmering train
railed on decided work. this is WAKE, this means
BEGIN, your main() with her. peace, walking through city
pulses, end their made up Western, singing its shore borrowed
and stained with missiles. LOG warns this is magical rivers,
NOT tongue to be salvaged or interred with any one place
that has hers. win there — placed like dirt on the shoe
place warns. all letters, all Eastern locks penciled in with dog
interiors, let go the chain. Hopped up winds, and the granite
falling through any retrial that was schooling-less . . . without
Agamemnon warning in pushed hires and radio
made PINS. on THEN to an eye full of tunnels, real I/O
Copyright Credit: Roberto Harrison, “western rattle” from Os, published by Subpress. Copyright © 2006 by Roberto Harrison. Reprinted by permission of Roberto Harrison.
Source: Os (Sub Press, 2006)