Ante-Climactic Clash

Vernon Frazer & Michelle Greenblatt

     

The torrents breath their sacral hush, a tidal sigh

 

before

 

               R U S H I N G

 

 

 

                      epistolary fragments.

 

 

 

New

iotas

scream

                                  quota transfers among

 

the thickets

 

                                    brushed with thorns thick

                                           with syrupy sound

 

and when the circle widens I will

                                                   be there

 

 

 

a whistle a wave a windowpane a                      grin

                                                                        of

 

anticipation

 

                                                    waiting

 

                              to

 

welcome your return

from hiding in the land of dead legends, ease your pain again

 

 

but the truth---the "legality"---the "constitutionality" makes

 

need of a mighty secret

                 which now charms the public

 

and even if I--suddenly--found myself in a not a very big

 

 

                                          room

 

would smash through the walls and crash through the doors so I could

                     inherently hear

 

                                                       the real voices

 

                                       dealing

 

       from their deck

 

                               of smoking jokers:

 

 

                       an amendment to feel gay about

 

smirking ruthlessly outside my cell. The shattered walls,

 

the shattered

 

voices

distant

 

               as my slashing shiv

 

                                               encroaches on inviolate scoundrels

 

 

and my big blue verse without

                  words

 

slip-slides towards a final

 

                                        C L I M A X.