Thursday, October 22, 2009

Quintains for Beaked Echolaliacs

How might I frighten the curlicue curlews
that notate my quirks with their tails,
scrawling cursive in purlieus
for germs in their purview
that forge pathological trails?

When may I nurse back the silence of purse-black-
necked stilts that lean, white-flecked, in tide pools,
as choral as coral-
carved flutes made immoral
by cravings for sorrel on slide rules?

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