Sunday beside gravel or
a lO-year-old girl who
has just washed her hair
like boys running ahead
of long shadows and the
shadow of a balcony at
night on the sidewalk
like autumn when it's
just begun like wide
boards on a floor and
closets and copper like
shelves of old books
as if they were yours
Roberto Echavarren
GLOSSOLALIA
you cut your tongue like a violin
in Ekbatana, a yarn of silk on the spotted neck
the rebuff over the osier, between
the swollen lips, fairly wet
of Elvis Presley
that's the glossamer, get someone snig in
Mackie the Spaghettown
of that vision there was plenty in my dream
forest's murmurs, bluebird's detritus
one word of the prophezied on the subway hall
which isn't anything on a free trial basis
makes it entirely up to you
lofty, from aloft the rainbow, Krakatoa
a memory, although I told my mamma:
just like the wind, well, the fragmentary cup
matter / antimatter, go to daddy, she was fishing
nigger
