In case I find a tiny minute,
for Kathleen Fraser,
when no letters fall like leaves
Artie Gold, before ROMANTIC WORDS
A thudding silence, greets. Child-sized. Pure lyric energy, like watery spaghetti.
My passion, dipped. To shine, on shoulders. As a sentence to be, primarily.
Improbable yearning. Unyieldly chainsaw, lupins. Now that, even names. Crushing and regarding.
Am I not to take this personally, somehow. Pull up your socks, as you say. This very minute.