Abbreviating Summer, 198?

A rollered narcissus-flower
smoked, blown.

A bellowed cribbing tossing
over jaundiced-black

myopias, codifying a suggestion:
a velveteen volume’s neural

acidity; Our mangled, our mute-
buttoned lake.

Voices of Monticello skill and of
craned–racing importance,

localized in Mid-western manners,
up-country toward bungalow im-

pudence to courtly request;

the quick-mix concretized as
embattled, as lush

and as blistering of our feather-
weight, blood-winged feast;

“I do not know myself!” uttered
by our-inner, our-urban-

suffused dementia, warrant for the
reviling, revolving corner-breeze.