First, unplug the cord,

disconnect the current of syntax.

Next, strip all the paint of definition,

let the bare metal show through.

Stick words together with static,

like balloons in your hair.

Strike the first one with a mallet.

(Wood is preferred.)

Watch them resonate and quiver,

postmodern glass harmonica.

Let them sing discarded monstrance,

vaulted dactyl of scapular scan,

transfigured cathedral villanelle.

10/09/2001

Author's Note: First published in The TMP Irregular #33, March 2005.

Posted on 10/09/2001
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt