the vortex lemons quatorzain

[jeff harrison]

      submissives hair the drum the way Fortune Streets does

& just sit there counting back like varmints, souring my silver with

air relentless & desolate, their puppets hooded underwater buffalos

          O perfumed are their pressure-glass'd sides

              banned is their burning lungs monkey

       their flushed heads lip everything which clouds spit

     and narrowest newspapers moon O horizontally toward mouth

         now continuously will history with birds light

         principal wool will have them raining pleasure

       wildwood all around glided back to the superimposed

        me? I?m of rose & bull-headed where volcano teeth

                                grow on pegs

      upright love?s pale clear squirm's papery of eye today

  drank sun dethroned for ocean utterance bottomless & lost again




		
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