[Yesterday's cold sog]

Yesterday's cold sog
now hardened day
of Winter teeth
ground against
me,
screeching, scraping
air
told in flow

, but blue
old, but uninjured
by the unrest of hour-on-hour
slave to sleep

blue-paper rustling sky
fresh folded
picture.ure
pic.pic.ture
pit.cure

scratch,scratch
tin-nipple twang

orange-round rhyme
tattered sleep-whistle
tempered whim of imgs
poetry tamponade
the enjambment of bloodflowfeel

waterblame
stainblab

earnest
"um,
lose the pathology"
but slow
to clamber
back down
this each
by each
slide of
echoes
"come to bed
instead"

this laid back/laid back day pitch
is all the
just
the proof
we
ween

my spleen is filled
with ancient stone
members
mocking my speech

ensemble of semblances
trapped
in coarsely drawn lines

this half-brained
loudlimping
imp-poet
is
licking
poems from open sores

The day:
I think we've
reached the wrist-
part of it.
the skin stretches
as it bends slightly
the later unseen parts
of the day
finger out into
possibilities
three of them
strained, grasping
a ledge
another hand of a day
flailing
to find a secure hold

the timebody
the spacebody
held together
by the languagebody

this cute.rip splash of papered
lifesleep
is
aimed straight
-jacket /
-at you!