For once good the howl

The animal Gerard can sing
all in his lonesome march
in the absence of people
many-armed & foolish,
like a fruiting stand
deprived of its earth,
or a house without walls
but bloated under rainfall—
like those & more,
singing, the pitch soaked
in what his calm strokes
elicit like a patch
of honeyed fur on a nuded
infant, not there, nor right,
something born of night
alone in the birth canal
through which tunnel echo
in the cramped falsetto
his songs none but to his mother,
the dog in the dark
who suffers no company but itself,
its mere paws-patter
& its living cargo mewling
to the fester of creation
as a pup babe or shoat
no more unique than a yelped sharp note.

Revisionary notes: remove Gerard, commas to penultimate line, “through which tunnel” fix, “singing, the pitch soaked” fix. “Infant rooting on fingers,” make everything clearer in connections else you just made a word salad, you Anti-anti-anti thing, you!

~ by Jeremy on July 6, 2010.

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