I am stevedore to unknown sterilized silver
chemists, stickler for stigmaria shocked
into being by text-wrapped sticky Thalia.
Soraya, tetrarch of mash note terreplein,
you reinforce the rules of kriegspiel with a
light hand, my kyrie spreading like kudzu
regardless of Kshatriya boundaries. (Kulaks
always knew just enough Kremlinology.)
Laic Lok Sabha performs long division
over necessary neckcloths, the Near East
a near gale, the revolt of Soraya’s ullage
a felix culpa curving to the bend of massifs.
Carrier pigeons alight on carousels facing
labor camps lit by Lahori lacquerwork.about the author