POEM FOR TAMARA

an odor of empty barbershops chants, making churches 

of the edges of confusion. where backyards are cluttered 

with the papery gossip of palsied vegetation sulks 

the afternoon, a mantis mutters–mournful.

overfull, oversleek, the beetles sleep–having fed.

a growth of light blasts. the rootends of cloud dangle 

dragging moody heaven.… Leer más