By: Eric Lunde
Your hands look like night he said Where do you keep them? Hidden from sight so they
Won’t turn into words signal for landing we all come to hover incredulous miraculous
Dead heat and then cold also a stone to turn over in your head there’s a reward
It will work out wont it if you want it to there’s enough to go around
thorough fare ship hard ache in the back going into the reasons won’t help
Before we even start the night Someone must ignite
Have a beer be strong + reasonable (skirmish water is bleak cover for ratiocination
Fumble fumble fumble
What would (you) like to be called? A copper pot (addiction) AUTOCORRECTED IS cop perot
Cop parrot cop? Parrot? Shoulder? door? anemic parable?
A thousand words are grafted together to form the night sky what constellation are you?
Precipice? Jewelry? Humectant? Fold into silver wet paradise a coming for you wink
and weep shadow clear when is hold
And the plane is erupted shovel down into upside the world down cowered thankful
against the glass shelving two words failure is of failure is get we look the
same uncloaked
*mpls star tribune headline 7/19/2022
ERIC LUNDE lives in Minneapolis MN USA. With many years of engagement in the arts, he now primarily works in hand-made books, printing, "letter press" of his own design, writing and self-publishing. He also continues to work in audio and noise-oriented spoken word. Samples of his work and activities can be viewed at: https://endythekid.blogspot.com.