Tuesday, January 26, 2021


You may think 
that the poet—

stuck as he is 
with the rest of us 

in the dark rough 
and curtain-thick folds 
of this rhetoric—

is about 
to make 
his excellent point;

but did you notice
how this sentence—

now scored
with myriad nearly
invisible rips, 

now asway 
with its slow-mounting 
stacks of peaked apexes—

has gradually 
begun to slip, 

like brass handcuffs 
off the slick 

and duplicitously 

wrists of 
the magician?