America (Try saying wren)

Try saying wren.

It’s midnight

in my body, 4 a.m. in my body, breading and olives and
cherries. Wait, it’s all rotten. How am I ever. Oh notebook.
A clown explains the war. What start or color or kind of
grace. I have to teach. I have to run, eat less junk. Oh CNN.
What start or color. There’s a fist of meat in my solar plexus
and green light in my mouth and little chips of dream flake
off my skin. Try saying wren. Try saying
mercy.

Try anything

Joseph Lease

Quelle: poets.org

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