Poem as punctured lung,

as bladder, wracked and spongy. Follow the language deep inside; pipe bone flutes into a dog’s rump, inhale and play. What’s on my mind? Cross-section of a larynx in full flow; sphinx at the open window as baffled kitten kitted out in rain-soaked mufti, tuft of ginger felt above the sphincter. Nothing says haircut likeContinue reading “Poem as punctured lung,”