#Americans
At your light side trees shy A kneeling enters them
Like everyone I demand to be Defended unto the death of All who defend me, all the World’s people I command to Roundabout me shield me, to
I don’t dare speak too loudly, some timbres could be fatal— that string is not too strong I think: and at times I have to breathe. Or maybe I fear
I’m charmed yet chagrined by this… As when, after a riot, my city’s s… Boarded up, billboarded over, with… Similarly, swimmingly, I miss the… And my misunderstanding doesn’t st…
–to S. The light lay in shreds across the… only your waking could make it who… resuming its costume of day, its r… which seems to overnight get ragge…
Note: Tomlinson is not only a distinctive poet, but a visual artist of repute. His graphics grace the covers of many of his books. This Homage attempts to imitate his verse style, or ...
“...here thy generations endeth in… I physically resemble my mother And father and therefore must have… Adopted, because on my TV screen The role-children rarely share a f…
Note: For 'or’ to free itself from ‘word,’ it must strain ('heave’) against the 'w’ and the 'd’ that enclose it. If, via this strenuous (perhaps squeamish) process, the meaning of 'or’...
Time, time, time, time, the clock vaccinates us. and then even that lacks prophylaxis. Ticktock-pockmarked, stricken
His task to watch an hourglass was… A ritual cleansing that leaves him… Though no purification’s new enoug… To nullify the need for such labor… Prior soon to repeat, platonic clo…
Finally the day dawned when a mono… world So it went looking for its stockho… But they were all owned by it they… someplace
is thought to be a confession, won… torture, but which our interrogato… hate to record—all those old code… the standard narrative of sandpape… throats, even its remorse, fall ig…
From the trees the leaves came dow… until we joined hands with a wand and that act enabled them somehow then to reach the ground where they scuttered round our fee…
If you are still alive when you re… close your eyes. I am under their lids, growing black.
Tying the pimp in dreams to a lamp… His tuxedo wet with wheedled kisse… I wake up sucking the footprints o… In jails that glitter like crash-d… A dog appears in call letters on m…
