AN INSTRUMENTAL (EXCEPT WITH WORDS)
Chris Stolle
coffeehouses and billows of white smoke
seem to go hand in hand
like diamonds in caves
and wrecking balls and historical monuments
as if there was some
necessity of peanut butter and jelly (strawberry, of course)
on wheat. took a spork in my hand
to delve into that mysterious jello
and all the while the water was boiling
because sometimes I like to eat
hard-boiled eggs after
dessert to see how it feels to
live in reverse. vibrations in my skull
grab every tendon and stretch them
to the outermost reaches of my skin
and the bones poke through and
not an ounce of blood do I shed
as the pores are clogged. a judge on the pulpit,
a priest in a coffin and a corpse in the courtroom
but that's how they are perceived from the outside
and of the law, the Lord or life, I can only ask
which one really tells the
truth while in the newspaper I read
a comic strip.
