page 120

Why I Chose To Kill Syboth

Freedom Week

seven fragments of light
curling
made the impeding air
attractice, said inventive Man
jumping before the wrinkled
white shell
of an egg sky breakfast

- tripping
across the moth pastied
carpet
saluting the stained roses
lying on the cloth
ripped several napkins
and belted the horrendous child
on the knitted back
removing the dislodged cries
of crust and
pepperminted mini-vertebrates

o charles
cried the chrome stained
bitter-half flapping damp
pancakes to the sun

o charles
the noise of the child
swinging in duckyblue chair-lips
sensing the morning wind
whistling floor
only silence of cloudwashed

page 130

streets
o but i the child now slumped
in its cremoated grave
have nothing to say
goo goo mother special
balancing the silver cutlery on
the white cloth never disturbing
the tangled roses
since emotion let loose confined,
was provoked did syboth die of
discloiting of the marble face?
joyous rupture of foebread guck?
or the suns oiling flapping
pancakes

- i amuse my wife by balancing
cutlery
- first the hand
then the foot

i see that another day lapses in
the foggery of london ports
and throw it
crackling white-bold
over the inerturtured child

o charles
the spurious voice
jitters from wall
to wall
like spider
bitten light