Sunday, December 10, 2006

Suspension Poem under the Willful Command of a 52-Year Old Mexican Daddy

Armor of ink, cataclysmic!
Abrupt yank that’s a tug then a plea.
Absurd! I’ve shackled a countenance
To cheekbones and tripe. Phalanges
Tickle the underbelly of the heart like a hog
With no conscience. The thrill of a bigote!
Up here, the whole road afloat, awhirl—
I’m doting.

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