Scrap Workbench Construction Book

A poem that resists semantic clarity & uses interjection, non-standard syntax as a way of feeling through the sound & intersection of linguistic vertices, rather than structural or formal organization

Minotaur forks collections of feet waxing the port concrete new.

Greenhorn. Fists for rust buffalo sold to the happy family lots.

Dream-tail mine-craft citronella splashes bandwidth with loss.

Playback. Strip-scorch. Birch search good little swinger boy. 

Coy mistress mistrust is us that there that’s them, selves & rows.

Gutter newts candied skin in a reflective embouchure why not.

Bodies in streets students spell democracy, cheer full full-time.

Robot songs improve with each robot generation: let them explain.

Capital city strike on table, table as theater, theater as engagement.

Kowtow to marriage & or nuclear war the monitors are in love.

Screen, reptiles, reptiles screened, CDC personnel, funding cuts.

Lyric blasé was a Shakespeare wit about a wick flame & fuel.

The readership has specialized alongside emeriti hardship assuage.

Heavy whipping cream drains slow over an enormous erect age.

Saint Benedict St. & O Augustine isn’t coming, not even allowed.

He’s still there singing in the old barnyard church falling apart.

A kind of returning to order there in matter’s temporary dissolve.

That woman rubbed salve slowly over her hands / throws a pot.

Another maxim catalog for prophesies stitched nodal & dutiful.

Infinite timelines intersected which doesn’t mean history isn’t.

Anyway, during days that summer body moved mind barely did.

Abandoned railroad steel lines took the feet of that other person.

Creosote rose up in summer heat & sun / everything was & wasn’t.

Author's Note

Hello. I'm Louis (LEW-EE or ' lui). I invite any expression offered. Feel free to contact me. Thank you.

Reviews

[mattavelli]

Hello, Luis! :)
I couldn’t crack it. Thanks for sharing.