Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Previously Published in Counterexample Poetics . . .

 Behind the Beat of This Alien Drum

The rhinoceros spins along a row of elaborate flowers
in a [hesitant] moment's waning moonlight.
A midnight two-step; the bee-by flutter
of an untouched horn three shades lucky.
I rub the place where it stuttered
hoping to osmosize a sa[m]pling of karma.
Its aboriginal texture is confusing; my fingers
play it like Braille.  Bleeding themselves
across indecipherable scales, I worry[bead] this tree
line aura.  Heavy as smoke, I am
dying with its breath.  I
                                       dive through a random
streak of sand.  Come out clean
of everything but the ghastly image
of a mustached cigar being
swallowed by a sure-footed swish
                                                         of a tale.

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Previously Published in Epigraph . . .

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