Reflections on the pre-poem

The uncherished drum is the donkey
That keeps your eye from wakefulness; the
Point of contention that reveals wheatberries
Plummer than ambition, and the full white

Fear of gray premonitions; the unperished
Angst flies in the face of a luckless chant;
That which is content with knead and
Pull, and taut vials of an unmistaken hue;

The unblemished prune is your horse’s
Ass; and its broom that catches a nap
When stars are wobbling the stratosphere
With quantum vibrations unbeknowest.

The knots of now are basically an umpteen
Then, a smorgasbord

Of resistance bound tangerine woes, the
Stress of an unmade

Bed, the hound of a mistaken tread, the
Bead of micelike arms

Craving your sanity, double the strength
Of harm, perhaps triple.


What to do with the non-existent
   sense of the urgent, the non-
   exigent, the not-yet-ready at

When to submit, who to call, why
   to sing at all? The flames in
   tandem, the crimes of ink, we

We do, we can, we call, but who?
   the sun is not impressed, the
   field of particles jump unwil

The tongue patterns of universe weave
A mottled weave that grazes the roof
Of hardened stares by and large stately

Yet uncomfortable; the weave of a bodily
Fabric condemned to a rural veracity that
Bleeds color onto the sky and so tales are

Told of how the anvil of the fatherland raised
The delicate balance up to the level of
Concern; and concern there was, of course.

The sanguine cart of a thousand woes
Has a breadbasket full of untended
Sores, household names, keychains that

Are flung in hurried postures, stylized
Vacuums, hybrid waystations, this is
Not heaven, this is not the highway nor

Its cousin; the sanguine house is terror
Is your personalized vision of fear; do you
Know when it’s time to breathe in tandem?