Juggler
June 8, 2012, by Homme de Sept-Îles
a youzen
dozin'
poured fat
like gold muscle flex
under yukon mule skin
the vat nods forward
outside the tent
beyond alley
past shame
the bandana pellet
palver
the one hand, crow
nose
shabble game
brandied flame
or studded cobalt
thorns of diamonds
the good hands
sweat chalk
clean beneath
we hope
the pail and pore illusion
oh character,
he ambles.
we study poor
what drink pale
pours jounce?
they all yell at their wives
All Montreal Mystique poems are now on the easy-to-navigate microblog Mots Mystique. See if you like the format.


Subscribe to the Podcast
0 comments
Kick things off by filling out the form below.
Leave a Comment