Pockets And Ventricles
by Shane Plante
1.
Half a letter off. Whirring propellers, one-handed cartwheels. Throwing ice into the tree. Put your toesies to the limestone. A streetcar named Tennessee. Making a voice to the sun. More than a thimbles worth. Pretense is noxious to me. Like a woman sitting on a babys knee. Paste for parsing, spackle for blanking. Clichés warp in the heart. That old time perdition.
7.
Treat the windpipe like a chimney. When in doubt: drop a city and a prayer. Like casting panties before swine. Im no prig without a fig. Count the streaks on a tulip. She wobbles and she bounces. Im preaching the word of Bob. There is no else. Life consists of presuppositions. Breathe to fade.
10.
To raise eyebrows: open your song in medias sexist. Wield that apostrophe like a weapon. Never give them what they expect. The ditch, a different sidewalk. Absence makes the heart. Beauty parlour chicanery. An olé but a goodé. Let the form express the discontent.
Pockets And Ventricles excerpt ©2004 Shane Plante
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