and Yes, our Yankees win

between an experience
and its expression, the
pink dark tonsil replicates

after a hardening poem
scaffolding, tatters of
aphorism, off-plastic cement

presume gold wrung, up-
raided, appraises, woven
evil tongue to an evil eye

Fauvist read! esconced in a
kennel of statement, once
of simultaneity by abeyance

Loss verbalizing amidst Gar-
gantuas, and arid plateaus,
the Egyptian coda; witticism

smoked upon blue tenement
cedes a censured pod for
cackling falsity mourned

“call it rest, call
it flight, name it freight
(I name it night)”

and Yes, our Yankees win