Exquisite Corpse
The narrow passage of taste
Beyond the ample square
Across Bloody Run to Bald
Mountain, such Faustian longings
Panting Sodom’s flame as if
To fire God’s feet...
Goldfish that reject philately and
All spaghetti western implants
In the eastern eggplant’s eel
Whose forceps fear you...
In the corners of harmony
The creekside offsets quiet...
In order to gentrify the river
Basin, our neighbors
Darkly swimming under Pleiades streaming
Below the Milky Way...
If marshmallows could cure lice
And relinquish the sweet relish pickaxe
That doesn’t make any money
But it isn’t dead...
The spare tracks it left
Extended to the zenith
Nancy Breton (Pseud)
